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The  Art  of  Public  Speaking 



"bow  to  ATnACT  AMD  HOLD  AN  AVDIBHCB," 






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Copyright  1915 
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Table  of  Contents 


Things  to  Think  of  Fntsx— A  Fosewokd  .     .     .  dc 

Chapter  I — ^Acquibing  Confidence  Before  an 

Audience x 

Chapter  II— The  Sm  of  Monotony     .     .     .     •  lo 

Chapter  m — ^Efficiency  through  Emphasis  and 

Subordination i6 

Chapter  IV— Efficiency  through   Change   of 

Pitch 27 

Chapter  V— Efficiency    through    Change    of 

Pace 39 

Chapter  VI— Pause  AND  Power SS 

Chapter  vn— Efficiency  through  Inflection  69 

Chapter  Vm — Concentration  in  Delivery  80 

Chapter  IX — Force 87 

Chapter  X — Feeling  and  Enthusiasm     .     .     .  ioi 

Chapter  XI — ^Fluency  through  Preparation  115 

Chapter  Xn — ^The  Voice 125 

Chapter  Xin — ^Voice  Charm 134 

Chapter  XIV — ^Distinctness  and  Preosion  of 

Utterance 146 

Chapter  XV— The  Truth  About  Gesture    .     .156 

Chapter  XVI— Methods  of  Delivery      ...  171 



Chapter  XVn— Thought  AND  Reserve  Power  .  184 


Chapter  XVni — Subject  and  Preparation  .     .  199 

Chapter  XIX — ^Inpluencing  by  ExposmoN  .     .  218 

Chapter  XX — ^Influencing  by  Description  .     .  231 

Chapter  XXI — ^Influencing  by  Narration    .     .  249 

Chapter  XXn — ^Influencing  by  Suggestion  262 

Chapter  XXlll— Influencing  by  Argument  280 

Chapter  XXIV — ^Influencing  by  Persuasion  295 

Chapter  XXV — Influencing  the  Crowd       .     .  308 

Chapter  XXVI — Riding  the  Winged  Horse  .     .  321 

Chapter  XXVn — Growing  a  Vocabulary     .     .  334 

Chapter  XXVUI — ^Memory  Training       .     .     .  343 

Chapter  XXIX — ^Right  Thinking  and  Person- 
ality        355 

Chapter  XXX — ^After-Dinner  and  other  Occa- 
sional Spearing    362 

Chapter  XXXI — ^Making  Conversation  Effec- 
tive          372 

Appendix  A — ^Fifty  Questions  for  Debate    .     .  379 

Appendix  B — ^Thirty  Themes  for  Speeches,  with 

Source-References 383 

Appendix  C — Suggestive  Subjects  for  Speeches; 

Hints  FOR  Treatment 386 

Appendix  D — ^Speeches  for  Study  and  Practise  394 

General  Index         506 

Things  to  Think  of  First 


The  efficiency  of  a  book  is  like  that  of  a  man,  in  one  im- 
portant respect:  its  attitude  toward  its  subject  is  the  first 
source  of  its  power.  A  book  may  be  full  of  good  ideas  well 
expressed,  but  if  its  writer  views  his  subject  from  the  wrong 
angle  even  his  excellent  advice  may  prove  to  be  ineffective. 

This  book  stands  or  falls  by  its  authors'  attitude  toward 
its  subject.  K  the  best  way  to  teach  oneself  or  others 
to  speak  eJQFectively  in  public  is  to  fill  the  mind  with  rules, 
and  to  set  up  fixed  standards  for  the  interpretation  of 
thought,  the  utterance  of  language,  the  making  of  ges- 
tures, and  all  the  rest,  then  this  book  will  be  limited  in 
value  to  such  stray  ideas  throughout  its  pages  as  may 
prove  helpful  to  the  reader — as  an  eflFort  to  enforce  a 
group  of  principles  it  must  be  reckoneyd  a  f ailmre,  because 
it  is  then  untrue. 

It  is  of  some  importance,  therefore,  to  those  who  take 
up  this  volume  with  open  mind  that  they  should  see 
clearly  at  the  out-start  what  is  the  thought  that  at  once 
underlies  and  is  builded  through  this  structure.  In  plain 
words  it  is  this: 

Training  in  public  speaking  is  not  a  matter  of  externals 
— primarily;  it  is  not  a  matter  of  imitation — ^fimdamen- 
tally;  it  is  not  a  matter  of  conformity  to  standards — ^at 
all.  Public  speaking  is  public  utterance,  public  issuance, 
of  the  man  himself;  therefore  the  first  thing  both  in  time 
and  in  importance  is  that  the  man  should  be  and  think 
and  feel  things   that  are  worthy  of  being  given  forth. 


Unless  there  be  something  of  value  within,  no  tricks  of 
training  can  ever  make  of  the  talker  anything  more  than 
a  machine — albeit  a  highly  perfected  machine — ^for  the 
ddivery  of  other  men's  goods.  So  self-development  is 
fundamental  in  our  plan. 

The  second  principle  lies  dose  to  the  first:  The  man  must 
enthrone  his  will  to  rule  over  his  thought,  his  feelings,  and 
all  his  physical  powers,  so  that  the  outer  self  may  give  per- 
fect, unhampered  expression  to  the  inner.  It  is  futile,  we 
assert,  to  lay  down  systems  of  rules  for  voice  culture,  in- 
tonation, gesture,  and  what  not,  unless  these  two  principles 
of  having  something  to  say  and  making  the  will  sovereign 
have  at  least  b^un  to  make  themselves  felt  in  the  life. 

The  third  principle  will,  we  surmise,  arouse  no  dispute: 
No  one  can  learn  hew  to  speak  who  does  not  first  speak  as 
best  he  can.  That  may  seem  like  a  vicious  circle  in 
statement,  but  it  will  bear  examination. 

Many  teachers  have  b^un  with  the  haw.  Vain  effort! 
It  is  an  ancient  truism  that  we  learn  to  do  by  doing.  The 
first  thing  for  the  beginner  in  public  speaking  is  to  speak — 
not  to  study  voice  and  gesture  and  the  rest.  Once  he  has 
spoken  he  can  improve  himself  by  self-observation  or 
according  to  the  critidsms  of  those  who  hear. 

But  how  shall  he  be  able  to  criticise  himself?  Simply 
by  finding  out  three  things:  What  are  the  qualities  which 
by  common  consent  go  to  make  up  an  effective  speaker; 
by  what  means  at  least  some  of  these  qualities  may  be 
acquired;  and  what  wrong  habits  of  speech  in  himself 
work  against  his  acquiring  and  using  the  qualities  which 
he  finds  to  be  good. 


Experience,  then,  is  not  only  the  best  teacher,  but  the 
first  and  the  last.  But  experience  must  be  a  dual  thing — 
the  experience  of  others  must  be  used  to  supplement, 
correct  and  justify  our  own  experience;  in  this  way  we 
shall  become  our  own  best  critics  only  after  we  have 
trained  ourselves  in  self-knowledge,  the  knowledge  of 
what  other  minds  think,  and  in  the  ability  to  judge  our- 
selves by  the  standards  we  have  come  to  believe  are 
right.    "  U I  ought,"  said  Kant,  "  I  can." 

An  examination  of  the  contents  of  this  volume  will  show 
how  consistently  these  articles  of  faith  have  been  de- 
clared, expounded,  and  illustrated.  The  student  is  urged 
to  b^in  to  speak  at  once  of  what  he  knows.  Then  he  is 
given  simple  suggestions  for  self-control,  with  gradually 
increasing  emphasis  upon  the  power  of  the  inner  man  over 
the  outer.  Next,  the  way  to  the  rich  storehouses  of 
material  is  pointed  out.  And  finally,  all  the  while  he  is 
urged  to  speak,  speak^  SPEAK  as  he  is  appl}dng  to  his  own 
methods,  in  his  own  personal  way,  the  principles  he  has 
gathered  from  his  own  experience  and  observation  and 
the  recorded  experiences  of  others. 

So  now  at  the  very  first  let  it  be  as  dear  as  light  that 
methods  are  secondary  matters;  that  the  full  mind,  the 
warm  heart,  the  dominant  wiU  are  primary — and  not  only 
primary  but  paramount;  for  unless  it  be  a  full  being  that 
uses  the  methods  it  wiU  be  like  dressing  a  wooden  image 
in  the  clothes  of  a  man. 

J.  Berg  Esenwein. 
Narberth,  Pa., 
January  i,  191 5. 



Sense  never  fails  to  give  them  that  have  it,  Words  enough  to 
make  them  understood.  It  too  often  happexis  in  some  conver- 
sations, as  in  Apothecary  Shops,  that  those  Pots  that  are  Bmptv, 
or  have  Things  of  small  Value  in  them,  are  as  gaudily  Dress  d 
as  those  that  are  full  oi  precious  Drugs. 

They  that  soar  too  high,  often  fall  hard,  making  a  low  a&d 
level  DwelUng  preferable.  The  tallest  Trees  are  most  in  the 
Power  of  the  Winds,  and  Ambitious  Men  of  the  Blasts  of  Fortune. 
Buildings  have  need  of  a  good  Foundation,  that  lie  so  much  ex- 
posed to  the  Weather. 

—William  Pbnn. 



There  is  a  strange  sensation  often  experienced  in  the  presence 
of  an  audience.  It  may  proceed  from  the  gaze  of  the  many  eyes 
that  torn  upon  the  speaker,  especially  if  he  permits  himself  to 
steadily  return  that  gaze.  Most  speakers  have  been  conscious 
of  this  in  a  nameless  thrill,  a  real  something,  pervading  the  atmos- 
phere, tangible,  evanescent,  indescribable.  All  writers  have 
borne  testimony  to  the  power  of  a  speaker's  eye  in  impressing 
an  audience.  This  influence  which  we  are  now  considering  is 
the  reverse  of  that  picture — ^the  power  their  eyes  may  exert 
upon  him,  especially  before  he  begins  to  speak:  after  the  inward 
fires  of  oratory  are  fanned  into  flame  the  eyes  of  the  audience 
lose  an  terror. — ^William  Pittbngbk,  Extempore  Speech. 

Students  of  public  speaking  continually  ask,  "How  can 
I  overcome  self-consciousness  and  the  fear  that  paralyzes 
me  before  an  audience?" 

Did  you  ever  notice  in  looking  from  a  train  window 
that  some  horses  feed  near  the  track  and  never  even 
pause  to  look  up  at  the  thundering  cars,  while  just 
ahead  at  the  next  railroad  crossing  a  farmer's  wife  will 
be  nervously  trying  to  quiet  her  scared  horse  as  the 
train  goes  by? 

How  would  you  cure  a  horse  that  is  afraid  of  cars — graze 
him  in  a  back-woods  lot  where  he  would  never  see  steam- 
engines  or  automobiles,  or  drive  or  pasture  him  where  he 
would  frequently  see  the  machines? 

Apply  horse-sense  to  ridding  yourself  of  self-conscious- 
ness and  fear:  face  an  audience  as  frequently  as  you  can, 


and  you  will  soon  stop  sh3dng.  You  can  never  attain  free- 
dom from  stage-fright  by  reading  a  treatise.  A  book  may 
give  you  excellent  suggestions  on  how  best  to  conduct  yoMi- 
self  in  the  water,  but  sooner  or  later  you  must  geVwet,  per- 
haps even  strangle  and  be  ''half  scared  to  death."  There 
are  a  great  many '' wetless"  bathing  suits  worn  at  the  sea- 
shore, but  no  one  ever  learns  to  swim  in  them.  To  plunge 
is  the  only  way. 

Practise,  practise,  PRACTISE  in  speaking  before  an 
audience  will  tend  to  remove  all  fear  of  audiences,  just 
as  practice  in  swimming  will  lead  to  confidence  and 
facility  in  the  water.  You  must  learn  to  speak  by  speaking. 

The  Apostle  Paul  tells  us  that  every  man  must  work  out 
his  own  salvation.  All  we  can  do  here  is  to  ofiFer  you  sug- 
gestions as  to  how  best  to  prepare  for  your  plunge.  The 
real  plunge  no  one  can  take  for  you.  A  doctor  may  pre- 
scribe, but  you  must  take  the  medicine. 

Do  not  be  disheartened  if  at  first  you  suffer  from  stage- 
fright.  Dan  Patch  was  more  susceptible  to  suffering 
than  a  superannuated  dray  horse  would  be.  It  never  hurts 
a  fool  to  appear  before  an  audience,  for  his  capacity  is 
not  a  capacity  for  feeling.  A  blow  that  would  kill  a 
civilized  man  soons  heals  on  a  savage.  The  higher  we  go 
in  the  scale  of  life,  the  greater  is  the  capacity  for  suffering. 

For  one  reason  or  another,  some  master-speakers  never 
entirely  overcome  stage-fright,  but  it  will  pay  you  to 
spare  no  pains  to  conquer  it.  Daniel  Webster  failed  in  his 
first  appearance  and  had  to  take  his  seat  without  finishing 
his  speedi  because  he  was  nervous.  Gladstone  was  often 
troubled  with  self -consciousness  in  the  beginning  of  an  ad- 


dress.     Beecher  was  always   perturbed   before   talking 
in  public. 

Blacksmiths  sometimes  twist  a  rope  tight  around  the 
nose  of  a  horse,  and  by  thus  inflicting  a  little  pain  they 
distract  his  attention  from  the  shoeing  process.  One  way 
to  get  air  out  of  a  glass  is  to  pour  in  water. 

Be  Absorbed  by  Your  Subject 

Apply  the  blacksmith's  homely  principle  when  you  are 
q>eaking.  If  you  fed  deq)ly  about  your  subject  you  will 
be  able  to  think  of  little  else.  Concentration  is  a  proc- 
ess of  distraction  from  less  important  matters.  It  is 
too  late  to  think  about  the  cut  of  your  coat  when  once  you 
are  upon  the  platform,  so  centre  your  interest  on  what 
you  are  about  to  say — ^fill  your  mind  with  your  speech- 
material  and,  Uke  the  infilling  water  in  the  glass,  it  will 
drive  out  your  imsubstantial  fears. 

Self-consciousness  is  imdue  consciousness  of  self,  and, 
for  the  purpose  of  delivery,  self  is  secondary  to  your  sub- 
ject, not  only  in  the  opinion  of  the  audience,  but,  if  you 
are  wise,  in  your  own.  To  hold  any  other  view  is  to  r^ard 
yourself  as  an  exhibit  instead  of  as  a  messenger  with  a 
message  worth  delivering.  Do  you  remember  Elbert 
Hubbard's  tremendous  little  tract,  ''A  Message  to  Gar- 
da"?  The  youth  subordinated  himself  to  the  message 
he  bore.  So  must  you,  by  all  the  determination  you  can 
muster.  It  is  sheer  ^otism  to  fill  your  mind  with  thoughts 
of  self  when  a  greater  thing  is  there — TRUTH.  Say  this 
to  yourself  sternly,  and  shame  yom:  self-consciousness  into 


quiescence.  If  the  theater  caught  fire  you  could  rush  to 
the  stage  and  shout  directions  to  the  audience  without  any 
self-consdousness,  for  the  importance  of  what  you  were 
sa3dng  would  drive  all  fear-thoughts  out  of  your  mind. 

Far  worse  than  self-consciousness  through  fear  of  doing 
poorly  is  self-consciousness  through  assumption  of  doing 
well.  The  first  sign  of  greatness  is  when  a  man  does  not"" 
attempt  to  look  and  act  great.  Before  you  can  call  your- 
self a  man  at  all,  Kipling  assures  us,  you  must  "not  look 
too  good  nor  talk  too  wise." 

Nothing  advertises  itself  so  thoroughly  as  conceit.  One 
may  be  so  full  of  self  as  to  be  empty.  Voltaire  said,  "We 
must  conceal  self-love."  But  that  can  not  be  done.  You 
know  this  to  be  true,  for  you  have  recognized  overweening 
self-love  in  others.  If  you  have  it,  others  are  seeing  it  in 
you.  There  are  things  in  this  world  bigger  than  self,  and 
in  working  for  them  self  will  be  forgotten,  or — ^what  is 
better — ^remembered  only  so  as  to  help  us  win  toward 
higher  things. 

Haoe  Something  to  Say 

The  trouble  with  many  speakers  is  that  they  go  before 
an  audience  with  their  minds  a  blank.  It  b  no  wonder 
that  nature,  abhorring  a  vacuum,  fills  them  with  the  nearest 
thing  handy,  which  generally  happens  to  be,  "I  wonder 
if  I  am  doing  this  right!  How  does  my  hair  look?  I  know 
I  shall  fail."    Their  prophetic  souls  are  sure  to  be  right. 

It  is  not  enough  to  be  absorbed  by  your  subject — to 
acquire  self-confidence  you  must  have  something  in  which 
to  be  confident.   If  you  go  before  an  audience  without  any 


preparation,  or  previous  knowledge  of  your  subject,  you 
ought  to  be  self-conscious — ^you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
steal  the  time  of  your  audience.  Prepare  yourself.  Know 
what  you  are  going  to  talk  about,  and,  in  general,  how  you 
are  going  to  say  it  Have  the  first  few  sentences  worked 
out  completely  so  that  you  may  not  be  troubled  in  the 
b^inning  to  find  words.  Know  your  subject  better  than 
your  hearers  know  it,  and  you  have  nothing  to  fear. 

After  Preparing  far  Success,  Expect  It 

Let  your  bearing  be  modestly  confident,  but  most  of 
all  be  modestly  confident  within.  Over-confidence  is 
bad,  but  to  tolerate  premonitions  of  failure  is  worse,  for  a 
bold  man  may  win  attention  by  his  very  bearing,  while  a 
rabbit-hearted  coward  invites  disaster. 

Humility  is  not  the  personal  discount  that  we  must 
offer  in  the  presence  of  others — against  this  old  inter- 
pretation there  has  been  a  most  healthy  modem  reaction. 
True  humility  any  man  who  thoroughly  knows  himself 
must  feel;  but  it  is  not  a  hiunility  that  assumes  a  worm- 
like meekness;  it  is  rather  a  strong,  vibrant  prayer  for 
greater  power  for  service — a  prayer  that  Uriah  Heep  could 
never  have  uttered. 

Washington  Irving  once  introduced  Charles  Dickens 
at  a  dinner  given  in  the  latter's  honor.  In  the  middle  of 
his  speedi  Irving  hesitated,  became  embarrassed,  and 
sat  down  awkwardly.  Turning  to  a  friend  beside  him  he 
remarked,  ''There,  I  told  you  I  would  fail,  and  I  did" 

If  you  believe  you  will  fail,  there  ia  no  hope  for  you. 
You  will. 


Rid  yourself  of  this  I-am-a-poor-worm-in-the-dust  idea. 
You  are  a  god,  with  infinite  capabilities.  ''All  things  are 
ready  if  the  mind  be  so."  The  eagle  looks  the  cloudless 
sun  in  the  face. 

Assume  Mastery  Over  Your  Audience 

In  public  speech,  as  in  electricity,  there  is  a  positive 
and  a  negative  force.  Either  you  or  your  audience  are 
going  to  possess  the  positive  factor.  If  you  assume  it 
you  can  almost  invariably  make  it  yours.  If  you  assume 
the  n^ative  you  are  sure  to  be  n^ative.  Assuming  a 
virtue  or  a  vice  vitalizes  it  Summon  all  your  power 
of  self-direction,  and  remember  that  though  your  audience 
is  infinitely  more  important  than  you,  the  truth  is  more 
important  than  both  of  you,  because  it  is  eternal.  If  your 
mind  falters  in  its  leadership  the  sword  will  drop  from  your 
hands.  Your  assumption  of  bdng  able  to  instruct  or 
lead  or  inspire  a  multitude  or  even  a  small  group  of  pe<9le 
may  appall  you  as  being  colossal  impudence — as  indeed  it 
maybe;  but  having  once  essayed  to  speak,  be  courageous. 
BE  courageous — ^it  lies  within  you  to  be  what  you  will. 
MAKE  yourself  be  calm  and  confident. 

Reflect  that  your  audience  will  not  hurt  you.  IfBeecher 
in  Liverpool  had  spoken  behind  a  wire  screen  he 
would  have  invited  the  audience  to  throw  the  over-ripe 
missiles  with  which  they  were  loaded;  but  he  was  a  man, 
confronted  his  hostile  hearers  fearlessly — and  won  them. 

In  facing  your  audience,  pause  a  moment  and  look  them 
over — a  hundred  chances  to  one  they  want  you  to  ftcceed, 
for  what  man  is  so  foolish  as  to  spend  his  time,  perhaps 


his  moneyi  in  the  hope  that  you,  will  waste  his  investment 
by  talking  dully? 

Condudmg  Hints 

Do  not  make  haste  to  begin — Chaste  shows  lack  of  con- 

Do  not  apologize.  It  ought  not  to  be  necessary;  and 
if  it  is,  it  will  not  help.    Go  straight  ahead. 

Take  a  deep  breath,  relax,  and  begin  in  a  quiet  con* 
versational  tone  as  though  you  were  speaking  to  one  large 
friend.  You  will  not  find  it  half  so  bad  as  you  imagined; 
really,  it  is  like  taking  a  cold  plunge:  after  you  are  in, 
the  water  is  fine.  In  fact,  having  spoken  a  few  times  you 
will  even  anticipate  the  plunge  with  exhilaration.  To 
stand  before  an  audience  and  make  them  think  your 
thoughts  after  you  is  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  you  can 
ever  know.  Instead  of  fearing  it,  you  ought  to  be  as 
anxious  as  the  fox  hounds  straining  at  their  leashes,  or 
the  race  horses  tugging  at  their  reins. 

So  cast  out  fear,  for  fear  is  cowardly — ^when  it  is  not 
mastered.  The  bravest  know  fear,  but  they  do  not  yield 
to  it.  Face  your  audience  pluckily — ^if  your  knees  quake, 
MAKE  them  stop.  In  your  audience  lies  some  victory 
for  you  and  the  cause  you  represent.  Go  win  it.  Suppose 
Charles  Martell  had  been  afraid  to  hammer  tha  Saracen 
at  Tours;  suppose  Columbus  had  feared  to  venture  out 
into  the  imknown  West;  suppose  our  forefathers  had  been 
tpo  timid  to  oppose  the  tyrrany  of  George  the  Third; 
suppiW  that  any  man  who  ever  did  anything  worth  while 
had  been  a  cowardi    The  world  owes  its  progress  to  the 


men  who  have  dared,  and  you  must  dare  to  speak  the 
effective  word  that  is  in  your  heart  to  speak — ^for  often 
it  requires  courage  to  utter  a  single  sentence.  But  re- 
member that  men  erect  no  monuments  and  weave  no 
laurels  for  those  who  fear  to  do  what  they  can. 

Is  all  this  uns3rmpathetic,  do  you  say? 

Man,  what  you  need  is  not  sympathy,  but  a  push.  No 
one  doubts  that  temperament  and  nerves  and  illness  and 
even  praiseworthy  modesty  may,  singly  or  combined, 
cause  the  speaker's  cheek  to  blanch  before  an  audience, 
but  neither  can  any  one  doubt  that  coddling  will  magnify 
this  weakness.  The  victory  lies  in  a  fearless  frame  of  mind. 
Prof.  Walter  Dill  Scott  says:  ''Success  or  failure  in  busi- 
ness is  caused  more  by  mental  attitude  even  than  by  men- 
tal capacity.''  Banish  the  fear-attitude;  acquire  the  con- 
fident attitude.  And  remember  that  the  only  way  to 
acquire  it  is — to  acquire  it. 

In  this  foundation  chapter  we  have  tried  to  strike  the 
tone  of  much  that  is  to  follow.  Many  of  these  ideas  will 
be  amplified  and  enforced  in  a  more  specific  way;  but 
through  all  these  chapters  on  an  art  which  Mr.  Gladstone 
believed  to  be  more  powerful  than  the  public  press,  the 
note  of  justifiable  self-confidence  must  sound  again  and 


I.    What  is  the  cause  of  self-consdousness? 
3.    Why  are  animals  free  from  it? 


3.  What  is  your  observation  regarding  self-consdoiis- 
ness  in  children? 

4.  Why  are  you  free  from  it  under  the  stress  of  un- 
usual excitement? 

5.  How  does  moderate  excitement  affect  you? 

6.  What  are  the  two  fundamental  requisites  for  the 
acquiring  of  self-confidence?  Which  is  the  more  important? 

7.  What  effect  does  confidence  on  the  part  of  the 
speaker  have  on  the  audience? 

8.  Writc^out  a  two-minute  speech  on  ''Confidence  and 

9.  What  effect  do  habits  of  thought  have  on  confidence? 
In  this  connection  read  the  chapter  on  "Right  Thinking 
and  Personality." 

10.  Write  out  very  briefly  any  experience  you  may  have 
had  involving  the  teachings  of  this  chapter. 

11.  Give  a  three-minute  talk  on  " Stage-Fright/'  in- 
cluding a  (kindly)  imitation  of  two  or  more  victims. 





One  day  Ennui  was  bom  from  Uniformity. — ^Mottb. 

Our  English  has  changed  with  the  years  so  that  many 
words  now  connote  more  than  they  did  originally.  This  is 
true  of  the  word  monotonous.  From  "  having  but  one  tone," 
it  has  come  to  mean  more  broadly,  '^lack  of  variation/' 

The  monotonous  speaker  not  only  drones  along  in  the 
same  volume  and  pitch  of  tone  but  uses  always  the  same 
emphasis,  the  same  speed,  the  same  thoughts — or  dis- 
penses with  thought  altogether. 

Monotony,  thecardinal  and  most  common  sin  of  the  pub- 
lic speaker,  is  not  a  transgression — ^it  is  rather  a  sin  of  omis- 
sion, for  it  consists  in  living  up  to  the  confession  of  the 
Prayer  Book:  ''We  have  left  undone  those  things  we 
ought  to  have  done." 

Emerson  sa3rs,  ''The  virtue  of  art  lies  in  detachment, 
in  sequestering  one  object  from  the  embarrassing  variety/' 
That  is  just  what  the  monotonous  speaker  fails  to  do — he 
does  not  detach  one  thought  or  phrase  from  another,  they 
are  all  expressed  in  the  same  manner. 

To  tell  you  that  your  speech  is  monotonous  may  mean 
very  little  to  you,  so  let  us  look  at  the  nature — and  the 
curse — of  monotony  in  other  spheres  of  life,  then  we  shall 
appreciate  more  fully  how  it  will  blight  an  otherwise  good 


If  the  Victrola  in  the  adjoining  apartment  grinds  out 
just  three  selections  over  and  over  again,  it  is  pretty  safe 
to  assume  that  yom:  neighbor  has  no  other  records.  If  a 
^>eaker  uses  only  a  few  of  his  powers,  it  points  very  plainly 
to  the  fact  that  the  rest  of  his  powers  are  not  developed. 
Monotony  reveals  our  limitations. 

In  its  effect  on  its  victim,  monotony  is  actually  deadly — 
it  will  drive  the  bloom  from  the  cheek  and  the  lustre  from 
the  eye  as  quickly  as  sin,  and  often  leads  to  vidousness. 
The  worst  punishment  that  human  ingenuity  has  ever  been 
able  to  invent  is  extreme  monotony — solitary  confinement. 
Lay  a  marble  on  the  table  and  do  nothing  eighteen  hours  of 
the  day  but  change  that  marble  from  one  point  to  another 
and  back  again,  and  you  will  go  insane  if  you  continue 
long  enough. 

So  this  thing  that  shortens  life,  and  is  used  as  the  most 
cruel  of  punishments  in  our  prisons,  is  the  thing  that  will 
destroy  all  the  life  and  force  of  a  speech.  Avoid  it  as  you 
would  shun  a  deadly  dull  bore.  The  "  idle  rich  "  can  have 
half-a-dozen  homes,  command  all  the  varieties  of  foods 
gathered  firom  the  fom:  comers  of  the  earth,  and  sail  for 
Africa  or  Alaska  at  their  pleasure;  but  the  poverty- 
stricken  man  must  walk  or  take  a  street  car — ^he  does  not 
have  the  choice  of  yacht,  auto,  or  special  train.  He  must 
spend  the  most  of  his  life  in  labor  and  be  content  with 
the  staples  of  the  food-market.  Monotony  is  poverty, 
whether  in  speech  or  in  life.  Strive  to  increase  the  variety 
of  your  speech  as  the  business  man  labors  to  augment  his 

Bird-songs,  forest  glens,  and  mountains  are  not  mono- 


tonous — ^it  is  the  long  rows  of  brown-stone  fronts  and  the 
miles  of  paved  streets  that  are  so  terribly  same.  Nature 
in  her  wealth  gives  us  endless  variety;  man  with  his 
limitations  is  often  monotonous.  Get  back  to  nature  in 
your  methods  of  speech-making. 

The  power  of  variety  lies  in  its  pleasure-giving  quality. 
The  great  truths  of  the  world  have  often  been  couched  in 
fascinating  stories — ''Les  Miserables,"  for  instance.  If 
you  wish  to  teach  or  influence  men,  you  must  please  them, 
first  or  last.  Strike  the  same  note  on  the  piano  over  and 
over  again.  This  will  give  you  some  idea  of  the  displeasing, 
jarring  effect  monotony  has  on  the  ear.  The  dictionary 
defines  '^monotonous"  as  being  synonymous  with  "weari- 
some." That  is  putting  it  mildly.  It  is  maddening.  The 
department-store  prince  does  not  disgust  the  public,  by 
playing  only  the  one  tune,  "Come  Buy  My  WaresI"  He 
gives  recitals  on  a  $125,000  organ,  and  the  pleased 
people  naturally  slip  into  a  buying  mood. 

How  to  Conquer  Monotony 

We  obviate  monotony  in  dress  by  replenishing  our 
wardrobes.  We  avoid  monotony  in  speech  by  multi- 
plying our  powers  of  speech.  We  multiply  our  powers  of 
speech  by  increasing  our  tools. 

The  carpenter  has  special  implements  with  which  to 
construct  the  several  parts  of  a  building.  The  organist 
has  certain  keys  and  stops  which  he  manipulates  to  pro- 
duce his  harmonies  and  effects.  In  like  manner  the  q;)eaker 
has  certain  instruments  and  tools  at  his  conmiand  by 
which  he  builds  his  argument,  plays  on  the  feelings,  and 


guides  the  beliefs  of  his  audience.  To  give  you  a  concep- 
tion of  these  instruments,  and  practical  help  in  learning 
to  use  them,  are  the  purposes  of  the  immediately  following 

Why  did  not  the  Children  of  Israel  whirl  through  the 
desert  in  limousines,  and  why  did  not  Noah  have  moving- 
picture  entertainments  and  talking  machines  on  the  Ark? 
The  laws  that  enable  us  to  op>erate  an  autombbile,  pro- 
duce moving-pictures,  or  music  on  the  Victrola,  would 
have  worked  just  as  well  then  as  they  do  today.  It  was 
ignorance  of  law  that  for  ages  deprived  htunanity  of  our 
modem  conveniences.  Many  speakers  still  use  ox-cart 
methods  in  their  speech  instead  of  employing  automobile 
or  overland-express  methods.  They  are  ignorant  of  laws 
that  make  for  efficiency  in  speaking.  Just  to  the  extent 
that  you  r^ard  and  use  the  laws  that  we  are  about  to 
examine  and  learn  how  to  use  will  you  have  efficiency  and 
force  in  your  speaking;  and  just  to  the  extent  that  you 
disr^ard  them  will  your  speaking  be  feeble  and  ineffec- 
tive. We  cannot  impress  too  thoroughly  upon  you  the 
necessity  for  a  real  working  mastery  of  these  principles. 
They  are  the  very  foundations  of  successful  speaking. 
**  Get  your  principles  right,"  said  Napoleon,"  and  the  rest 
is  a  matter  of  detail." 

It  is  useless  to  shoe  a  dead  horse,  and  all  the  sound 
principles  in  Christendom  will  never  make  a  live  speech 
out  of  a  dead  one.  So  let  it  be  understood  that  public 
speaking  is  not  a  matter  of  mastering  a  few  dead  rules;  the 
most  important  law  of  public  speech  is  the  necessity  for 
truth,  force,  feeling,  and  life.   Forget  all  else,  but  not  this. 


When  you  have  mastered  the  mechanics  of  speech  out- 
lined in  the  next  few  chapters  you  will  no  longer  be  troubled 
with  monotony.  The  complete  knowledge  of  these  prin- 
ciples and  the  ability  to  apply  them  will  give  you  great 
variety  in  your  powers  of  expression.  But  they  cannot 
be  mastered  and  applied  by  thinking  or  reading  about 
them — ^you  must  practise,  practise^  PRACTISE.  K  no 
one  else  will  listen  to  you,  listen  to  yourself — ^you  must 
always  be  your  own  best  critic,  and  the  severest  one  of  all. 

The  technical  principles  that  we  lay  down  in  the  follow- 
ing chapters  are  not  arbitrary  creations  of  o\ir  own.  They 
are  all  founded  on  the  practices  that  good  speakers  and 
actors  adopt — either  naturally  and  unconsciously  or 
under  instruction — ^in  getting  their  effects. 

It  is  useless  to  warn  the  student  that  he  must  be  natural. 
To  be  natural  may  be  to  be  monotonous.  The  little  straw- 
berry up  in  the  arctics  with  a  few  tiny  seeds  and  an  add 
tang  is  a  natiiral  berry,  but  it  is  not  to  be  compared  with 
the  improved  variety  that  we  enjoy  here.  The  dwarfed 
oak  on  the  rocky  hillside  is  natural,  but  a  poor  thing  com- 
pared with  the  beautiful  tree  foimd  in  the  rich,  moist 
bottom  lands.  Be  natural — ^but  improve  your  natural 
gifts  until  you  have  approached  the  ideal,  for  we  must 
strive  after  idealized  natiire,  in  fruit,  tree,  and  speech. 


1.  What  are  the  causes  of  monotony? 

2.  Cite  some  instances  in  nature. 

3.  Cite  instances  in  man's  daily  life. 


4*    Describe  some  of  the  effects  of  monotony  in  both 

5.  Read  aloud  some  speech  without  pa3dng  particular 
attention  to  its  meaning  or  force. 

6.  Now  rq>eat  it  after  you  have  thoroughly  assimilated 
its  matter  and  spirit  What  difference  do  you  notice  in 
its  rendition? 

7.  Why  is  monotony  one  of  the  worst  as  wdl  as  one 
of  the  most  conmion  faults  of  speakers? 




In  a  word,  the  principle  of  emphasis  ....  is  followed 
best,  not  by  remembering  particular  rules,  but  by  being  full 
of  a  particular  feeling. — C.  S.  Baldwin,  Writing  and  Speaking. 

The  gun  that  scatters  too  much  does  not  bag  the  birds. 
The  same  principle  applies  to  speech.  The  speaker  that 
fires  his  force  and  emphasis  at  random  into  a  sentence  will 
not  get  results.  Not  every  word  is  of  special  importance 
— ^therefore  only  certain  words  demand  emphasis. 

You  say  MassaC^TZ/setts  and  Minne^lPolis,  you  do  not 
emphasize  each  syllable  alike,  but  hit  the  accented 
syllable  with  force  and  hurry  over  the  unimportant  ones. 
Now  why  do  you  not  apply  this  principle  in  speaking  a 
sentence?  To  some  extent  you  do,  in  ordinary  speech; 
but  do  you  in  public  discoiirse?  It  is  there  that  monotony 
caused  by  lack  of  emphasis  is  so  painfully  apparent. 

So  far  as  emphasis  is  concerned,  you  may  consider  the 
average  sentence  as  just  one  big  word,  with  the  important 
word  as  the  accented  syllable.    Note  the  following: 

''Destiny  is  not  a  matter  of  chance.  It  is  a  matter  of 
choice."  . 

You  nught  as  well  say  MAJS^-CHU'SETTS,  em- 
phasizing  every  syllable  equally,  as  to  lay  equal  stress 
on  each  word  in  the  forgoing  sentences. 

Speak  it  aloud  and  see.   Of  course  you  will  want  to  em- 


phaaize  destiny ^  for  it  is  the  principal  idea  in  your  declara- 
tion, and  you  will  put  some  emphasis  on  noi^  else  your 
hearers  may  think  you  are  afiSrming  that  destiny  is  a 
matter  of  chance.  By  all  means  you  must  emphasize 
chance^  for  it  is  one  of  the  two  big  ideas  in  the  statement. 

Another  reason  why  chance  takes  emphasis  is  that  it 
is  contrasted  with  chofce  in  the  next  sentence.  Obviously, 
the  author  has  contrasted  these  ideas  purposely, 
so  that  they  might  be  more  emphatic,  and  here  we 
see  that  contrast  is  one  of  the  very  first  devices  to  gain 

As  a  public  speaker  you  can  assist  this  emphasis  of  con- 
trast with  your  voice.  K  you  say,  "My  horse  is  not 
Uacky"  what  color  immediately  comes  into  mind?  White, 
naturally,  for  that  is  the  opposite  of  black.  If  you  wish 
to  bring  out  the  thought  that  destiny  is  a  matter  of  choice, 
you  can  do  so  more  effectively  by  first  saying  that  ^^  DES- 
TINY is  NOT  a  matter  of  CHANCE:'  Is  not  the  color 
of  the  horse  impressed  upon  us  more  emphatically  when 
you  say,  "My  horse  is  NOT  BLACK.  He  is  WHITE'' 
than  it  would  be  by  hearing  you  assert  merely  that 
yo\ir  horse  is  white? 

In  the  second  sentence  of  the  statement  there  is  only  one 
important  word — choice.  It  is  the  one  word  that  posi- 
tively defines  the  quality  of  the  subject  being  discussed, 
and  the  author  of  those  lines  desired  to  bring  it  out 
emphatically,  as  heUts  shown  by  contrasting  it  with 
another  idea.     These  lines,  then,  would  read  like  this: 

''DESTINY  is  NOT  a  matter  of  CHANCE.  It  is 
a  matter  of  CHOICE."     Now  read  this  over,  striking 

•  <• 


the   words   in    capitals    with    a  great  deal  of  force. 

In  almost  every  sentence  there  are  a  few  MOUNTAIN 
PEAK  WORDS  that  represent  the  big,  important  ideas. 
When  you  pick  up  the  evening  paper  you  can  tell 
at  a  glance  which  are  the  important  news  articles. 
Thanks  to  the  editor,  he  does  not  tell  about  a  ''hold  up" 
in  Hong  Kong  in  the  same  sized  type  as  he  uses  to  report 
the  death  of  five  firemen  in  your  home  dty.  Size  of  type 
is  his  device  to  show  emphasis  in  bold  relief.  He  brings 
out  sometimes  even  in  red  headlines  the  striking  news  of 
the  day. 

It  would  be  a  boon  to  speech-making  if  speakers  would 
conserve  the  attention  of  their  audiences  in  the  same  way 
and  emphasize  only  the  words  rq)resenting  the  important 
ideas.  The  average  speaker  will  deliver  the  foregoing 
line  on  destiny  with  about  the  same  amount  of  emphasis 
on  each  word.  Instead  of  saying,  ''It  is  a  matter  of 
CHOICE,''  he  will  deliver  it,  "It  is  a  matter  of  choice," 
ot'^IT  IS  A  MATTEROP  CHOICE"— both  equBUyhsid. 

Charles  Dana,  the  famous  editor  of  The  New  York  Sun, 
told  one  of  his  reporters  that  if  he  went  up  the  street  and 
saw  a  dog  bite  a  man,  to  pay  no  attention  to  it.  The  Sw^ 
could  not  afford  to  waste  the  time  and  attention  of  its 
readers  on  such  unimportant  happenings.  "But,"  said  Mr. 
Dana,  "if  you  see  a  man  bite  a  dog,  hurry  back  to  the 
office  and  write  the  story."  Of  course  that  is  news;  that 
is  unusual. 

Now  the  speaker  who  says  "/r  IS  A  MATTER  OP 
CHOICE"  is  putting  too  much  emphasis  upon  things 
that  are  of  no  more  importance  to  metropolitan  readers 


than  a  dog  bite,  and  when  he  fails  to  emphasize  '' choice '' 
he  is  like  the  reporter  who  ''passes  up"  the  man's  biting 
a  dog.  The  ideal  speaker  makes  his  big  words  stand  out 
like  mountain  peaks;  his  unimportant  words  are  sub- 
merged like  stream-beds.  His  big  thoughts  stand  like  huge 
oaks;  his  ideas  of  no  especial  value  are  merely  like  the 
grass  around  the  tree. 

From  all  this  we  may  deduce  this  important  principle: 
EMPHASIS  is  a  matter  of  CONTRAST  and  CX)M' 

Recently  the  New  York  American  featured  an  editorial 
by  Arthur  Brisbane.  Note  the  following,  printed  in  the 
same  type  as  given  here. 

We  do  not  know  what  the  President  THOUGHT 
when  he  got  that  message,  or  ^diat  the  elephant  fliinks 
when  he  sees  the  moose,  but  we  do  know  what  the 
President  DID. 

The  words  THOUGHT  and  DID  inunediatdy  catch 
the  reader's  attention  because  they  are  different  from  the 
others,  not  especially  because  they  are  larger.  If  all  the 
rest  of  the  words  in  this  sentence  were  made  ten  times 
as  large  as  they  are,  and  DID  and  THOUGHT  were 
kq)t  at  their  present  size,  they  would  still  be  emphatic, 
because  different. 

Take  the  following  from  Robert  Chambers'  novel, 
"The  Business  of  life."  The  words  you^  kady  wauld^ 
are  all  emphatic,  because  they  have  been  made  different. 

He  looked  at  her  in  angry  astonishment. 
"Wen,  what  do  you  call  it  if  it  isn't  cowardice — ^to  slink  off  and 
many  a  defenseless  girl  like  thatl" 


"Did  you  expect  me  to  give  you  a  chance  to  destroy  me  and 
poison  Jacqueline's  mind?  If  I  had  been  guilty  of  the  thing  with 
which  you  charge  me,  what  I  have  done  would  have  been 
cowardly.    Otherwise,  it  is  justified." 

A  Fifth  Avenue  bus  would  attract  attention  up  at 
Minisink  Ford,  New  York,  while  one  of  the  ox  teams  that 
frequently  pass  there  would  attract  attention  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  To  make  a  word  emphatic,  deliver  it  differently 
from  the  manner  in  which  the  words  surrounding  it  are 
delivered.  If  you  have  been  talking  loudly,  utter  the 
emphatic  word  in  a  concentrated  whisper — ^and  you  have 
intense  emphasis.  If  you  have  been  going  fast,  go  very 
slow  on  the  emphatic  word.  If  you  have  been  talking  on 
a  low  pitch,  jump  to  a  high  one  on  the  emphatic  word.  If 
you  have  been  talking  on  a  high  pitch,  take  a  low  one  on 
your  emphatic  ideas.  Read  the  chapters  on  "Inflection," 
"Feeling,"  "Pause,"  "Change  of  Pitch,"  "Change  of 
Tempo."  Each  of  these  will  explain  in  detail  how  to  get 
emphasis  through  the  use  of  a  certain  principle. 

In  this  chapter,  however,  we  are  considering  only  one 
form  of  emphasis:  that  of  applying  force  to  the  important 
word  and  subordinating  the  unimportant  words.  Do  not 
forget:  this  is  one  of  the  main  methods  that  you  must 
continually  employ  in  getting  your  effects. 

Let  us  not  confound  loudness  with  emphasis.  To  yell 
is  not  a  sign  of  earnestness,  intelligence,  or  feeling.  The 
kind  of  force  that  we  want  applied  to  the  emphatic 
word  is  not  entirely  physical.  True,  the  emphatic  word 
may  be  spoken  more  loudly,  or  it  may  be  spoken  more 
softly,  but  the  real  quality  desired  is  intensity,  earnestness. 
It  must  come  from  within,  outward. 


Last  night  a  speaker  said:  ''The  curse  of  this  country 
is  not  alack  of  ^ucation.  It's i^Iitics."  He  emphasized 
cursCy  lack,  education,  politics.  The  other  words  were 
hurried  over  and  thus  given  no  comparative  importance 
at  all.  The  word  politics  was  flamed  out  with  great 
feeling  as  he  slapped  his  hands  together  indignantly.  His 
emphasis  was  both  correct  and  powerful.  He  concentrated 
all  our  attention  on  the  words  that  meant  something,  in- 
stead of  holding  it  up  on  such  words  as  of  tkis,  a,  of,  Ifs, 

What  would  you  think  of  a  guide  who  agreed  to  show 
New  York  to  a  stranger  and  then  took  up  his  time  by  visit- 
ing Chinese  laundries  and  boot-blacking  "parlors"  on  the 
side  streets?  There  is  only  one  excuse  for  a  speaker's 
asking  the  attention  of  his  audience:  He  must  have  either 
truth  or  entertainment  for  them.  If  he  wearies  their 
attention  with  trifles  they  will  have  neither  vivacity  nor 
desire  left  when  he  reaches  words  of  Wall-Street  and  sky- 
scraper importance.  You  do  not  dwell  on  these  small 
words  in  your  everyday  conversation,  because  you  are 
not  a  conversational  bore.  Apply  the  correct  method  of 
everyday  speech  to  the  platform.  As  we  have  noted  else- 
where, public  speaking  is  very  much  like  conversation  en- 

Sometimes,  for  big  emphasis,  it  is  advisable  to  lay  stress 
on  every  single  syllable  in  a  word,  as  absolutely  in  the 
following  sentence: 

I  ab-so-lute-ly  refuse  to  grant  your  demand. 

Now  and  then  this  principle  should  be  applied  to  an 
emphatic  sentence  by  stressing  each  word.    It  is  a  good 


device  for  ezdting  special  attention^  and  it  furnishes  a 
pleasing  variety.  Patrick  Henry's  notable  climax  could 
be  delivered  in  that  manner  very  effectively:  "  Give-me- 
liberty-or-give-me-death. "  The  italicized  part  of  the 
following  might  also  be  delivered  with  this  every- word  em- 
phasis. Of  course,  there  are  many  ways  of  delivering  it; 
this  is  only  one  of  several  good  interpretations  that  might 
be  chosen. 

Knowing  the  price  we  must  pay,  the  sacrifice  we  must  make, 
the  burdens  we  must  cany,  the  assaults  we  must  endure — ^knowing 
full  well  the  cost — ^yet  we  enlist,  and  we  enlist  for  the  war.  For 
we  know  the  justice  of  our  cause,  and  we  know,  too,  Us  certain 
triumph. — From  "Pass  Prosperity  Around,"  by  Albert  J. 
BEVERmGE,  before  the  Chicago  National  Convention  of  the  Pro- 
gressive Party, 

Strongly  emphasizing  a  single  word  has  a  tendency  to 
suggest  its  antithesis.  Notice  how  the  meaning  changes 
by  merely  putting  the  emphasis  on  different  words  in  the 
following  sentence.  The  parenthetical  expressions  would 
really  not  be  needed  to  supplement  the  emphatic  words. 

/  intended  to  buy  a  house  this  Spring  (even  if  you  did  not). 

I  INTENDED  to  buy  a  house  this  Spring  (but  something  pre- 

I  intended  ix>  BUY  &  house  this  Spring  (instead  of  renting  as 

I  intended  to  buy  a  HOUSE  this  Spring  (and  not  an  automobile). 

I  intended  to  buy  a  house  THIS  Spring  (instead  of  next  Spring). 

I  intended  to  buy  a  house  this  SPRING  (instead  of  in  the 

When  a  great  battle  is  reported  in  the  papers,  they  do 
not  keep  emphasizing  the  same  facts  over  and  over  again. 


They  try  to  get  new  information,  or  a  "new  slant."  The 
news  that  takes  an  important  place  in  the  morning  edition 
will  be  relegated  to  a  small  space  in  the  late  afternoon 
edition.  We  are  interested  in  new  ideas  and  new  facts. 
This  principle  has  a  very  important  bearing  in  determining 
your  emphasis.  Do  not  emphasize  the  same  idea  over 
and  over  again  unless  you  desire  to  lay  extra  stress  on  it; 
Senator  Thurston  desired  to  put  the  maximum  amount  of 
emphasis  on  "force"  in  his  speech  on  page  50.  Note  how 
force  is  emphasized  repeatedly.  As  a  general  rule/ how- 
ever, the  new  idea,  the  "new  slant,"  whether  in  a  news- 
paper report  of  a  battle  or  a  speaker's  enunciation  of 
his  ideas,  is  emphatic. 

In  the  following  selection,  "larger"  is  emphatic,  for 
it  is  the  new  idea.  All  men  have  eyes,  but  this  man  asks 
for  a  LARGER  eye. 

This  man  with  the  larger  eye  says  he  will  discover,  not 
rivers  or  safety  appliances  for  aeroplanes,  but  NEW 
STARS  and  SUNS.  "New  stars  and  suns"  are  hardly  as 
empha,Jic  as  the  word  "larger."  Why?  Because  we  expect 
an  astronomer  to  discover  heavenly  bodies  rather  than 
cooking  recipes.  The  words,  "Republic  needs"  in  the 
next  sentence,  are  emphatic;  they  introduce  a  new  and 
important  idea.  Republics  have  always  needed  men,  but 
the  author  says  they  need  NEW  men.  "New"  is 
emphatic  because  it  introduces  a  new  idea.  In  like 
maimer,  "soil,"   "grain,"   "tools,"  are  also  emphatic. 

The  most  emphatic  words  are  italicized  in  this  selection. 
Are   there   any  others   you  would   emphasize?     Why? 


The  old  astronomer  said,  "Give  me  a  larger  eye,  and  I  will  dis- 
cover new  stars  and  suns"  That  is  what  the  repMic  needs  today 
— new  men — ^men  who  are  wise  toward  the  soil,  toward  the  grains, 
toward  the  tods.  If  God  would  only  raise  up  for  the  people  two 
or  three  men  like  Watt,  Fulton  and  McCormick,  they  would  be 
worth  mare  to  the  State  than  that  treasure  box  named  CaUfomia 
or  Mexico.  And  the  real  supremacy  of  man  is  based  upon  his 
capacity  for  education,  Man  is  unique  in  the  length  of  his  chUd- 
hood,  which  means  the  period  of  plasticity  and  education.  The 
childhood  of  a  moth,  the  distance  that  stands  between  the  hatching 
of  the  robin  and  its  maturity,  represent  a  few  hours  or  a,  few  weeks, 
but  twenty  years  for  growth  stands  between  man*s  cradle  and  his 
citizenship.  This  protracted  childhood  makes  it  possible  to 
hand  over  to  the  boy  all  the  accumulated  stores  achieved  by  races 

and  civilisations  through  thousands  of  years. 

— Anonymous. 

You  must  understand  that  there  are  no  steel-riveted 
rules  of  emphasis.  It  is  not  always  possible  to  designate 
which  word  must,  and  which  must  not  be  emphasized. 
One  speaker  will  put  one  interpretation  on  a  speech, 
another  speaker  will  use  different  emphasis  to  bring 
out  a  different  interpretation.  No  one  can  say  that  one 
interpretation  is  right  and  the  other  wrong.  This  prin- 
ciple must  be  borne  in  mind  in  all  our  marked  exercises. 
Here  your  own  intelligence  must  guide — ^and  greatly  to 
your  profit. 


1.  What  is  emphasis? 

2.  Describe  one  method  of  destroying  monotony  of 

3.  What  relation  does  this  have  to  the  use  of  the  voice? 

4.  Which  words  should  be  emphasized,  which  sub- 
ordinated, in  a  sentence? 


5.  Read  the  selections  on  pages  50,  51,  52,  53  and  54, 
devoting  special  attention  to  emphasizing  the  important 
words  or  phrases  and  subordinating  the  unimportant  ones. 
Read  again,  changing  emphasis  slightiy.  What  is  the  effect? 

6.  Read  some  sentence  repeatedly,  emphasizing  a 
different  word  each  time,  and  show  how  the  meaning  is 
changed,  as  is  done  on  page  22. 

7.  What  is  the  effect  of  a  lack  of  emphasis?  \/ 

8.  Read  the  selections  on  pages  30  and  48,  empha- 
sizing every  word.   What  is  the  effect  on  the  emphasis? 

9.  When  is  it  permissible  to  emphasize  every  single 
word  in  a  sentence? 

10.  Note  the  emphasis  and  subordination  in  some 
conversation  or  speech  you  have  heard.  Were  they  well 
made?    Why?    Can  you  suggest  any  improvement? 

1 1 .  From  a  newspaper  or  a  magazine,  clip  a  report  of  an 
address,  or  a  biographical  eulogy.  Mark  the  passage  for 
emphasis  and  bring  it  with  you  to  class. 

12.  In  the  following  passage,  would  you  make  any 
changes  in  the  author's  markings  for  emphasis?  Where? 
Why?  Bear  in  mind  that  not  all  words  marked  require 
the  same  de^ee  of  emphasis — in  a  wide  ifarieiy  of  emphasis, 
and  in  nice  shading  of  the  gradoHons,  lie  the  excellence  of 
emphatic  speech. 

I  would  -call  him  Napoleon,  but  Napoleon  made  his  way  to 
empire  over  broken  oaths  and  through  a  sea  of  blood.  This  man 
never  broke  his  word.  "  No  Retaliation  '*  was  his  great  motto  and 
the  rule  of  his  life;  and  the  last  words  uttered  to  his  son  in  Prance 
were  these:  "  My  boy,  you  will  one  day  go  back  to  Santo  Domin- 
go; forget  that  France  murdered  your  father."    I  would  call  him 


Cromwell,  but  Cromwell  was  only  a  soldier,  and  the  state  he  found- 
ed wetU  down  with  him  into  his  grave.  I  would  call  him  Washing- 
ton, but  the  great  Virginian  held  slaves.  This  man  risked  his  em- 
pire  rather  than  permit  the  slave-trade  in  the  humblest  village 
of  his  dominions. 

You  think  me  a  fanatic  to-night,  for  you  read  history,  not  with 
your  eyes,  but  with  your  prejudices.  But  fifty  years  hence,  when 
Truth  gets  a  hearing,  the  Muse  of  History  will  put  Phocion  for 
the  Greek,  and  Brutus  for  the  Roman,  Hampden  for  England, 
Lafayette  for  France,  choose  Washington  as  the  bright,  consummate 
flower  of  our  earlier  civilization,  and  John  Brown  the  hpe  fruit 
of  our  noonday,  then,  dipping  her  pen  in  the  sunlight,  will  whte 
in  the  clear  blue,  above  them  all,  the  name  of  the  soldier,  the  states- 
man, the  martyr,  TOUSSAINT  UOUVERTURE. 

— ^Wbndell  Phillips,  Toussaint  VOuoerture. 

Practise  on  the  following  selections  for  emphasis: 
Beecher's  "Abraham  Lincoln,"  page  76;  Lincoln's  "Get- 
tjrsburg  Speech,"  page  50;  Seward's  "Irrepressible  Con- 
flict," page  67;  and  Bryan's  "Prince  of  Peace,"  page  448. 



Speech  is  simply  a  modified  form  of  singing:  the  principal 
difference  being  in  the  fact  that  in  singing  the  vowel  sounds  are 
prolonged  and  the  intervals  are  short,  whereas  in  speech  the  words 
are  uttered  in  what  may  be  called  "staccato"  tones,  the  vowels 
not  being  specially  prolonged  and  the  intervals  between  the  words 
being  more  distinct.  The  fact  that  in  singing  we  have  a  larger 
range  of  tones  does  not  properly  distinguish  it  from  ordinary 
speech.  In  speech  we  have  likewise  a  variation  of  tones,  and  even 
in  ordinary  conversation  there  is  a  difference  of  from  three  to 
six  semi- tones,  as  I  have  found  in  my  investigations,  and  in  some 
persons  the  range  is  as  high  as  one  octave. 

— ^William  Scheppegrbll,  Popular  Science  Monthly. 

By  pitch,  as  everyone  knows,  we  mean  the  relative 
position  of  a  vocal  tone — as,  high,  medium,  low,  or  any 
variation  between.  In  public  speech  we  apply  it  not  only 
to  a  single  utterance,  as  an  exclamation  or  a  monosyllable 
{Oh!  or  the)  but  to  any  group  of  syllables,  words,  and  even 
sentences  that  may  be  spoken  in  a  single  tone.  This  dis- 
tinction it  is  important  to  keep  in  mind,  for  the  efficient 
speaker  not  only  changes  the  pitch  of  successive  syllables 
(see  Chapter  VII,  "Efficiency  through  Inflection")i  but 
gives  a  different  pitch  to  different  parts,  or  word-groups, 
of  successive  sentences.  It  is  this  phase  of  the  subject 
which  we  are  considering  in  this  chapter. 


Every  Change  in  the  Thought  Demands  a  Change  in  the 


Whether  the  speaker  follows  the  rule  consdously,  un- 
consciously, or  subconsciously,  this  is  the  logical  basis 
upon  which  all  good  voice  variation  is  made,  yet  this  law 
is  violated  more  often  than  any  other  by  public  speakers. 
A  criminal  may  disregard  a  law  of  the  state  without  de- 
tection and  punishment,  but  the  speaker  who  violates  this 
regulation  suffers  its  penalty  at  once  in  his  loss  of  effective- 
ness, while  his  innocent  hearers  must  endiire  the  monotony 
— for  monotony  is  not  only  a  sin  of  the  perpetrator, 
as  we  have  shown,  but  a  plague  on  the  victims  as  well. 

Change  of  pitch  is  a  stumbling  block  for  almost  all  be- 
ginners, and  for  many  experienced  speakers  also.  This  is 
especially  true  when  the  words  of  the  speech  have  been 

If  you  wish  to  hear  how  pitch-monotony  sounds,  strike 
the  same  note  on  the  piano  over  and  over  again.  You  have 
in  yoiir  speaking  voice  a  range  of  pitch  from  high  to  low, 
with  a  great  many  shades  between  the  extremes.  With 
all  these  notes  available  there  is  no  excuse  for  offending  the 
ears  and  taste  of  your  audience  by  continually  using  the 
one  note.  True,  the  reiteration  of  the  same  tone  in  music — 
as  in  pedal  point  on  an  organ  composition — may  be  made 
the  foundation  of  beauty,  for  the  harmony  weaving  about 
that  one  basic  tone  produces  a  consistent,  insistent  quality 
not  felt  in  pure  variety  of  chord  sequences.  In  like  man- 
ner the  intoning  voice  in  a  ritual  may — ^though  it  rarely 
does — ^possess  a  solemn  beauty.     But  the  public  speaker 


should   shun  the  monotone  as  he  would  a  pestilence. 
Continual  Change  of  Pitch  is  Nature^s  Highest  Method 

In  our  search  for  the  principles  of  efficiency  we  must  con- 
tinually go  back  to  nature.  Listen — ^really  listen — to  the 
birds  sing.  Which  of  these  feathe^red  tribes  are  most 
pleasing  in  their  vocal  efforts:  those  whose  voices,  though 
sweet,  have  little  or  no  range,  or  those  that,  like  the  canary, 
the  lark,  and  the  nightingale,  not  only  possess  a  consider- 
able range  but  utter  their  notes  in  continual  variety  of 
combinations?  Even  a  sweet-toned  chirp,  when  reiterated 
without  change,  may  grow  maddening  to  the  enforced 

The  little  child  seldom  speaks  in  a  monotonous  pitch. 
Observe  the  conversations  of  little  folk  that  you  hear  on 
the  street  or  in  the  home,  and  note  the  continual  changes 
of  pitch.  The  unconscious  speech  of  most  adults  is  like- 
wise full  of  pleasing  variations. 

Imagine  someone  speaking  the  following,  and  consider  if 
the  effect  would  not  be  just  about  as  indicated.  Re- 
member, we  are  not  now  discussing  the  inflection  of  single 
words,  but  the  general  pitch  in  which  phrases  are  spoken. 

(High  pitch)  "I'd  like  to  leave  for  my  vacation  tomorrow, — 
(lower)  still,  I  have  so  much  to  do.  (Higher)  Yet  I  suppose  if 
I  wait  until  I  have  time  I'll  never  go." 

Repeat  this,  first  in  the  pitches  indicated,  and  then  all 
in  the  one  pitch,  as  many  speakers  would.  Observe  the 
difference  in  naturalness  of  effect. 

The  following  exercise  should  be  spoken  in  a  piirely 


conversational  tone,  with  numerous  changes  of  pitch. 
Practise  it  until  yoiir  delivery  would  cause  a  stranger 
in  the  next  room  to  think  you  were  discussing  an  actual 
incident  with  a  friend,  instead  of  delivering  a  memorized 
monologue.  If  you  are  in  doubt  about  the  effect  you  have 
secured,  repeat  it  to  a  friend  and  ask  him  if  it  sounds  like 
memorized  words.    If  it  does,  it  is  wrong. 


Jack,  I  hear  you've  gone  and  done  it. — ^Yes,  I  know;  moet 
fellows  wlU;  went  and  tried  it  onoe  myself,  sir,  though  you  see 
I'm  single  still.  And  you  met  her — did  you  tell  me— down  at 
Newport,  last  Jtdy,  and  resolved  to  ask  the  question  at  a  soirfef 
So  did  I. 

I  suppose  you  left  the  ball-room,  with  its  music  and  its  light; 
for  they  say  love's  flame  is  brightest  in  the  darVnefw  of  the  night. 
Well,  you  walked  along  together,  overhead  the  starlit  sky;  and 
111  bet — old  man,  confess  it — ^you  were  frightened.    So  was  I. 

So  you  strolled  along  the  terrace,  saw  the  summer  moonlight 
pour  all  its  radiance  on  the  waters,  as  they  rippled  on  the  shore, 
till  at  length  you  gathered  courage,  when  you  saw  that  none  was 
nigh — did  you  draw  her  dose  and  tell  her  that  you  loved  her? 
So  did  I. 

Well,  I  needn't  ask  you  further,  and  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  joy. 
Think  111  wander  down  and  see  you  when  you're  married— eh, 
my  boy?  When  the  honeymoon  is  over  and  you're  settled  down, 
well  try — ^What?  the  deuce  you  sayl  Rejected — you  rejected? 
So  was  I. — Anonymous. 

The  necessity  for  changing  pitch  is  so  self-evident  that 
it  should  be  grasped  and  applied  inunediatdy.  However, 
it  requires  patient  drill  to  free  yourself  from  monotony 
of  pitch. 

In  natural  conversation  you  think  of  an  idea  first,  and 
then  find  words  to  express  it.    In  memorized  speeches 


you  are  liable  to  speak  the  words,  and  then  think  what  they 
mean — and  many  speakers  seem  to  trouble  very  little 
even  about  that.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  reversing  the 
process  should  reverse  the  result?  Get  back  to  nature 
in  your  methods  of  expression. 

Read  the  following  selection  in  a  nonchalant  manner, 
never  pausing  to  think  what  the  words  really  mean.  Try 
it  again,  carefully  studying  the  thought  you  have  assimi- 
lated. Believe  the  idea,  desire  to  express  it  effectively, 
and  imagine  an  audience  before  you.  Look  them  earnestly 
in  the  face  and  repeat  this  truth.  If  you  follow  directions, 
you  will  note  that  you  have  made  many  changes  of  pitch 
after  several  readings. 

It  18  not  work  that  kills  men;  it  is  worry.  Work  is  healthy; 
you  can  hardly  put  more  upon  a  man  than  he  can  bear.  Worry  is 
rust  upon  the  blade.  It  is  not  the  revolution  that  destroys  the 
machinery  but  the  friction. — Henrt  Wasd  BsBcmsR. 

Change  of  Pitch  Produces  Emphasis 

This  is  a  highly  important  statement.  Variety  in  pitch 
maintains  the  hearer's  interest,  but  one  of  the  surest  ways 
to  compel  attention — ^to  secure  unusual  emphasis — ^is 
to  change  the  pitch  of  your  voice  suddenly  and  in  a  marked 
d^^ree.  A  great  contrast  always  arouses  attention.  White 
shows  whiter  against  black;  a  cannon  roars  louder  in  the 
Sahara  silence  than  in  the  Chicago  hurly  bmrly — ^these 
are  simple  illustrations  of  the  power  of  contrast. 

"What  is  Congress  going  to  do  next? 

(High  pitch) 

I  do  not  know." 

(Low  pitch) 


By  such  sudden  change  of  pitch  during  a  sermon  Dr. 
Newell  Dwight  Hillis  recently  achieved  great  emphasis 
and  suggested  the  gravity  of  the  question  he  had  raised. 

The  forgoing  order  of  pitch-change  might  be  reversed 
with  equally  good  effect,  though  with  a  slight  change  in 
seriousness — either  method  produces  emphasis  when  used 
intelligently,  that  is,  with  a  conmion-sense  appreciation 
of  the  sort  of  emphasis  to  be  attained. 

In  attempting  these  contrasts  of  pitch  it  is  important 
to  avoid  unpleasant  extremes'.  Most  speakers  pitch  their 
voices  too  high.  One  of  the  secrets  of  Mr.  Bryan's  elo- 
quence is  his  low,  bell-like  voice.  Shakespeare  said  that 
a  soft,  gentle,  low  voice  was  ^'an  excellent  thing  in 
woman;"  it  is  no  less  so  in  man,  for  a  voice  need  not  be 
blatant  to  be  powerful, — and  must  not  be,  to  be  pleasing. 

In  closing,  let  us  emphasize  anew  the  importance  of 
using  variety  of  pitch.  You  sing  up  and  down  the  scale, 
first  touching  one  note  and  then  another  above  or  below 
it.    Do  likewise  in  speaking. 

Thought  and  individual  taste  must  generally  be  your 
guide  as  to  where  to  use  a  low,  a  moderate,  or  a  high  pitch. 


1.  Name  two  methods  of  destroying  monotony  and 
gaining  force  in  speaking. 

2.  Why  is  a  continual  change  of  pitch  necessary  in 

3.  Notice  your  habitual  tones  in  speaking.  Are  they 
too  high  to  be  pleasant? 

4.  Do  we  express  the  following  thoughts  and  emotions 


in  a  low  or  a  high  pitch?  Which  may  be  expressed  in 
either  high  or  low  pitch?  Excitement.  Victory.  Defeat. 
Sorrow.    Love.    Earnestness.    Fear. 

5.  How  would  you  naturally  vary  the  pitch  in  intro- 
ducing an  explanatory  or  parenthetical  expression  like 
the  following: 

He  started — that  is,  he  made  preparations  to  start — on  Septem- 
ber third. 

6.  Speak  the  following  lines  with  as  marked  variations 
in  pitch  as  your  interpretation  of  the  sense  may  dictate. 
Try  each  line  in  two  different  wa}rs.  Which,  in  each 
instance,  is  the  more  effective — and  why? 

What  have  I  to  gain  from  you?    Nothing. 

To  engage  our  nation  in  such  a  compact  would  be  an  infamy. 

Note:  In  the  foregoing  sentence,  experiment  as  towhefe  the 
change  in  pitch  would  better  be  made. 

Once  the  flowers  distilled  their  fragrance  here,  but  now  see 
the  devastations  of  war. 

He  had  reckoned  without  one  prime  factor — his  consdence. 

7.  Make  a  diagram  of  a  conversation  you  have  heard, 
showing  where  high  and  low  pitches  were  used.  Were  these 
changes  in  pitch  advisable?   Why  or  why  not? 

8.  Read  the  selections  on  pages  34,  35,  36,  37  and 
38^  pa3dng  careful  attention  to  the  changes  in  pitch. 
Reread,  substituting  low  pitch  for  high,  and  vice  versa. 

SekcUans  for  Practise 

Note:  In  the  following  selections,  those  passages  that 
may  best  be  delivered  in  a  moderate  pitch  are  printed  in 
ordinary  (roman)  type.    Those  which  may  be  rendered 


in  a  high  pitch — do  not  make  the  mistake  of  raising  the 
voice  too  high — are  printed  in  italics.  Those  which  might 
well  be  spoken  in  a  low  pitch  are  printed  in  CAPITALS. 
These  arrangements,  however,  are  merely  suggestive — 
we  cannot  make  it  strong  enough  that  you  must  use  your 
own  judgment  in  interpreting  a  selection.  Before  doing 
so,  however,  it  is  well  to  practise  these  passages  as  they 
are  marked. 

Yes,  aU  men  labor.  RUFUS  CHOATE  AND  DANIEL 
WEBSTER  labor,  say  the  critics.  But  every  man  who  reads 
of  the  labor  question  knows  that  it  means  the  movement  of  the 
men  that  earn  their  living  with  their  hands;  THAT  ARE  EM- 
PLOYED, AND  PAID  WAGES:  are  gartered  under  roofs  of 
factories,  sent  out  on  farms,  sent  out  on  ships,  gathered  on  the  waUs. 
In  popular  acceptation,  the  working  class  means  the  men  that 
work  with  their  hands,  for  wages,  so  many  hours  a  day,  employed 
by  great  capitalists;  that  work  for  everybody  else.  Why  do  we 
move  for  this  class?  "  Why,"  asks  a  critic,  "donH  you  move  FOR 
ARGUING  THE  MEXICAN  CLAIMS,  there  is  no  need  of  any- 
body's moving  for  him.  BECA  USE,  WHILE  R  UFUS  CHOA  TE 
ARGUMENT  TO  A  JURY,  there  is  no  need  of  moving  for  him,  or 
for  the  men  that  work  with  their  brains, — that  do  highly  disciplined 
and  skilled  labor,  invent,  and  write  books.  The  reason  why  the 
Labor  movement  confines  itself  to  a  single  class  is  because  that 
class  of  work  DOES  NOT  GET  PAID,  does  not  get  proteaion. 
MENTAL  LABOR  is  adequately  paid,  and  MORE  THAN 
ADEQ  UA  TEL  Y  proUcted.  IT  CA  N  SHIFT  ITS  CHA  NNELS; 
it  can  vary  according  to  the  supply  and  demand, 

IF  A  MAN  FAILS  AS  A  MINISTER,  why,  he  becomes  a  rail- 
way conductor.  IF  THA  T  DOESN T  SUIT  HIM,  he  goes  West, 
and  becomes  governor  of  a  territory.  AND  IF  HE  FINDS  HIM- 
he  comes  home,  and  gets  to  be  a  city  editor.    He  varies  his  occupation 


as  he  pleases,  and  doesn't  need  protection.    B  UT  THE  GREA  T 




THE  GREA  T  RUTS  OF  BUSINESS,'-they  are  the  men  whose 

inadequate  protection,  whose  unfair  share  of  the  general  product, 

claims  a  movement  in  their  behalf, 

— Wendell  Phillips. 

ING FULL  WELL  THE  COST— -yet  we  enlist,  and  we  enlist 
for  the  war,  FOR  WE  KNOW  THE  JUSTICE  OF  0  UR  CA  USE, 
and  we  know,  too,  its  certain  triumph, 

NOT  RELUCTANTLY  THEN,  but  eagerly,  not  with  faint 
hearts  B  UT  STRONG,  do  we  now  advance  upon  the  enemies  of 
the  peopU.  FOR  THE  CALL  THAT  COMES  TO  US  is  the 
call  that  came  to  our  fathers.     As  they  responded  so  shall  we. 


shall  never  call  retreat, 

His  judgment  seat, 


Our  God  is  marching  on," 

— Albert  J.  Bbvbridgb. 

Remember  that  two  sentences,  or  two  parts  of  the  same 
sentence,  which  contain  changes  of  thought,  cannot  pos- 
sibly be  given  effectively  in  the  same  key.  Let  us  repeat, 
every  big  change  of  thought  requires  a  big  change  of 
pitch.  What  the  beginning  student  will  think  are  big 
changes  of  pitch  will  be  monotonously  alike.  Learn  to 
speak  some  thoughts  in  a  very  high  tone — others  in  a 
very,  very  low  tone.  DEVELOP  RANGE,  It  is  ahnost 
impossible  to  use  too  much  of  it. 


TORIC SOIL  and  my  eyes  to  the  knowledge  of  her  beauty  and  her 
thrift.  Here  within  touch  of  Plymouth  Rock  and  Bunker  Hill — 
WHERE  WEBSTER  THUNDERED  and  LongfeUaw  sang,  Emer- 
CRADLE  OF  AMERICAN  LETTERS  and  almost  of  American 
liberty,  I  hasten  to  make  the  obeisance  that  every  American  owes 
New  England  when  first  he  stands  uncovered  in  her  mighty  pres- 
ence. Strange  apparition!  This  stem  and  unique  figtire — carved 
from  the  ocean  and  the  wilderness — its  majesty  kindling  and 
growing  amid  the  storms  of  winter  and  of  wars — tmtil  at  last 
the  gloom  was  broken,  ITS  BEA  UTY  DISCLOSED  IN  THE 
SUNSHINE,  and  the  heroic  workers  rested  at  its  base — ^while 
startled  kings  and  emperors  gazed  and  marveled  that  from  the 
rude  touch  of  this  handful  cast  on  a  bleak  and  tmknown  shore 
should  have  come  the  embodied  genius  of  human  government 
God  bless  the  memory  of  those  immortal  workers,  and  prosper 
the  fortunes  of  their  living  sons — and  perpetuate  the  inspiration 
of  their  handiwork 

Par  to  the  South,  Mr.  President,  separated  from  this  section 
by  a  line — once  defined  in  irrepressible  difference,  once  traced  in 
fratricidal  Mood,  AND  NOW,  THANK  GOD,  BUT  A  VANISH- 
ING SHADOW — lies  the  fairest  and  richest  domain  of  this  earth. 
It  is  the  home  of  a  brave  and  hospitable  people.  THERE  IS 
yields  to  the  husbandman  every  product  of  the  temperate  zone. 

There,  by  night  the  cotton  whitens  beneath  the  stars,  and  by  day 
SHEAF.  In  the  same  field  the  clover  steals  the  fragrance 
of  the  wind,  and  tobacco  catches  the  quick  aroma  of  the 
HAUSTLESS  TREASURES:  forests—^vast  and  primeval;  and 
rivers  that,  tunMing  or  loitering,  run  wanton  to  the  sea.  Of  the 
three  essential  items  of  all  industries — cotton,  iron  and  wood 
— ^that  region  has  easy  control.  IN  COTTON,  a  fixed  monopoly — 
IN  IRON,  proven  supremacy— IN  TIMBER,  the  reserve  supply 




oj  the  Republic.  Prom  this  assured  and  permanent  advantage, 
against  which  artificial  conditions  cannot  much  longer  prevail, 
has  grown  an  amazing  system  of  industries.  Not  maintained 
by  htmian  contrivance  of  tariff  or  capital,  afar  off  from  the  fullest 
and  cheapest  source  of  supply,  but  resting  in  divine  assurance, 
within  touch  of  field  and  mine  and  forest — not  set  amid  costly 
farms  from  which  competition  has  driven  the  farmer  in  despair, 
but  amid  cheap  and  sunny  lands,  rich  with  agriculture,  to  which 
neither  season  nor  soil  has  set  a  limit — ^this  system  of  industries 
is  mounting  to  a  splendor  that  shall  dazzle  and  illumine  the 
world.  THA  T,  SIR^  is  the  picture  and  the  promise  of  my  home — A 
and  yet  but  fit  setting  in  its  material  excellence  for  the  loyal  and 
gentle  quality  of  its  citizenship. 

This  hour  Uttle  needs  the  LOYALTY  THAT  IS  LOYAL  TO 
ONE  SECTION  and  yet  holds  the  other  in  enduring  suspicion 
and  estrangement.  Give  us  the  broad  and  perfect  loyalty  that  loves 
and  trusts  GEORGIA  alike  with  Massachusetts — ^that  knows  no 
SOUTH,  no  North,  no  EAST,  no  West,  but  endears  with  equal 
and  patriotic  love  every  foot  of  our  soil,  every  State  of  our  Union. 

TION impels  every  one  of  us  to-night  to  lose  in  patriotic  consecro^ 

WE,  SIR,  are  Americans— AND  WE  STAND  FOR  HUMAN 
LIBERTY/  The  uplifting  force  of  the  American  idea  is  under 
every  throne  on  earth.  France,  Brazil— THESE  ARE  OUR 
VICTORIES.  To  redeem  the  earth  from  kingcraft  and  oppression 
God  has  sown  in  our  soil  the  seed  of  His  millennial  harvest,  and 
He  will  not  lay  the  sickle  to  the  ripening  crop  until  His  ftill  and  per- 
fect day  has  come.  0  UR  HISTOR  Y,  SIR,  has  been  a  constant  and 
expanding  miracU,  FROM  PLYMOUTH  ROCK  AND  JAMES- 
TOWN, all  the  way — ^aye,  even  from  the  hour  when  from  the 
voiceless  and  traceless  ocean  a  new  world  rose  to  the  sight  of  the 
inspired  sailor.  As  we  approach  the  fourth  centennial  of  that 
stupendous  day — when  the  old  world  will  come  to  marvel  and 
to  learn  amid  our  gathered  treasures — ^let  us  resolve  to  crown  the 
miracles  of  our  past  with  the  spectacle  of  a  Republic,  compact,  unit- 
ed INDISSOLUBLE  IN  THE  BONDS  OF X07E— loving  from 


the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf — the  wounds  of  war  healed  in  every  heart 
as  on  every  hill,  serene  and  resplendent  AT  THE  SUMMIT  OF 
out  the  pcUh  and  making  dear  the  way  up  which  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth  must  come  in  God's  appointed  time/ 

— Henrt  W.  Grady,  The  Race  Problem. 

.  .  .  /  WOULD  CALL  HIM  NAPOLEON,  but  Napoleon 
made  his  way  to  empire  over  broken  oaths  and  through  a  sea  of  blood. 
This  man  never  broke  his  word.  "  No  Retaliation  "  was  his  great 
motto  and  the  rule  of  his  life;  AND  THE  LAST  WORDS 
boy,  you  will  one  day  go  back  to  Santo  Domingo;  forget  that  France 
murdered  your  father."  I  WOULD  CALL  HIM  CROMWELL, 
but  Cromwell  was  only  a  soldier,  and  the  state  he  founded  went  down 
with  him  into  his  grave.  I  WOULD  CALL  HIM  WASHING- 
TON, but  the  great  Virginian  held  slaves.  THIS  MA  N  RISKED 
HIS  EMPIRE  rather  than  permit  the  slave-trade  in  the  humblest 
village  of  his  dominions. 

YOU  THINK  ME  A  FANATIC  TO-NIGHT,  for  you  read 
history,  not  with  your  eyes,  BUT  WITH  YOUR  PREJUDICES, 
But  £Lfty  years  hence,  when  Truth  gets  a  hearing,  the  Muse  of 
History  will  put  PHOCION  for  ihe  Greek,  and  BRUTUS  for  the 
Roman,  HAMPDEN  for  England,  LAFAYETTE  for  France, 
choose  WASHINGTON  as  the  bright,  consummate  flower  of 
our  EARLIER  civUisation,  AND  JOHN  BROWN  the  ripe  fruU 
of  our  NOONDA  Y,  then,  dipping  her  pen  in  the  sunlight,  will 
write  in  the  dear  blue,  above  them  all.  the  name  of  THR 

— ^Wbndbix  Phillips.  Toussaint  rOuverture. 

Drill  on  the  following  selections  for  change  of  pitch: 
Beecher's  "Abraham  Lincoln,"  p.  76;  Seward's  "Ir- 
repressible Conflict,"  p.  67 ;  Everett's  "  History  of  Liberty," 
p.  78;  Grady's  "The  Race  Problem,"  p.  36;  and  Bev- 
eridge's  "Pass  Prosperity  Around,"  p.  470. 



Hear  how  he  clears  the  points  o'  Faith 

Wi'  rattlin'  an'  thtunpin'f 
Now  meekly  calm,  now  wild  in  wrath, 

He's  stampin'  an'  he's  jumpin'. 

— ^Robert  Burns,  Holy  Fair, 

The  Latins  have  bequeathed  to  us  a  word  that  has  no 
precise  equivalent  in  our  tongue,  therefore  we  have  ac- 
cepted it,  body  unchanged — ^it  is  the  word  iempoy  and 
means  raie  of  movemeni,  as  measured  by  the  time  consumed 
in  executing  that  movement. 

Thus  far  its  use  has  been  largely  limited  to  the  vocal 
and  musical  arts,  but  it  would  not  be  surprising  to  hear 
tempo  appUed  to  more  concrete  matters,  for  it  perfectly 
illustrates  the  real  meaning  of  the  word  to  say  that  an 
ox-cart  moves  in  slow  tempo,  an  express  train  in  a  fast 
tempo.  Our  guns  that  fire  six  hundred  times  a  minute, 
shoot  at  a  fast  tempo;  the  old  muzzle  loader  that  required 
three  minutes  to  load,  shot  at  a  slow  tempo.  Every 
musician  understands  this  principle:  it  requires  longer 
to  sing  a  half  note  than  it  does  an  eighth  note. 

Now  tempo  is  a  tremendously  important  element  in 
good  platform  work,  for  when  a  speaker  delivers  a  whole 
address  at  very  nearly  the  same  rate  of  speed  he  is  de- 
priving himself  of  one  of  his  chief  means  of  emphasis 
and  power.    The  base-ball  pitcher,  the  bowler  in  cricket, 


the  tennis  server,  all  know  the  value  of  change  of  pace — 
change  of  tempo — ^in  delivering  their  ball,  and  so  must  the 
public  speaker  observe  its  power. 

Change  of  Tempo  Lends  Naturalness  to  the  Delivery 

Naturalness,  or  at  least  seeming  naturalness,  as  was 
explained  in  the  chapter  on  ''Monotony,"  is  greatly  to  be 
desired,  and  a  continual  change  of  tempo  will  go  a  long  way 
towards  establishing  it.  Mr.  Howard  Lindsay,  Stage 
Manager  for  Miss  Margaret  Anglin,  recently  said  to  the 
present  writer  that  change  of  pace  was  one  of  the  most 
effective  tools  of  the  actor.  While  it  must  be  admitted 
that  the  stilted  mouthings  of  many  actors  indicate  cloudy 
mirrors,  still  the  public  speaker  would  do  well  to  study 
the  actor's  use  of  tempo. 

There  is,  however,  a  more  fundamental  and  effective 
source  at  which  to  study  naturalness — a  trait  which,  once 
lost,  is  shy  of  recapture:  that  source  is  the  common  con- 
versation of  any  well-bred  circle.  This  is  the  standard 
we  strive  to  reach  on  both  stage  and  platform — ^with  cer- 
tain differences,  of  course,  which  will  appear  as  we  go  on. 
If  speaker  and  actor  were  to  reproduce  with  absolute 
fidelity  every  variation  of  utterance — every  whisper, 
grunt,  pause,  silence,  and  explosion — of  conversation  as  we 
find  it  typically  in  every-day  life,  much  of  the  interest 
would  leave  the  pubUc  utterance.  Natiiralness  in  public 
address  is  something  more  than  faithful  reproduction  of 
nature — ^it  is  the  reproduction  of  those  typical  parts  of 
nature's  work  which  are  truly  representative  of  the  whole. 



The  realistic  story-writer  understands  this  in  writing 
dialogue,  and  we  must  take  it  into  account  in  seeking  for 
naturalness  through  change  of  tempo. 

Suppose  you  speak  the  first  of  the  following  sentences 
in  a  slow  tempo,  the  second  quickly,  observing  how  natural 
is  the  effect.  Then  speak  both  with  the  same  rapidity  and 
note  the  difference. 

I  can't  recall  what  I  did  with  my  knife.  Oh,  now  I  remember 
I  gave  it  to  Mary. 

We  see  here  that  a  change  of  tempo  often  occurs  in  the 
same  sentence — for  tempo  applies  not  only  to  single  words, 
groups  of  words,  and  groups  of  sentences,  but  to  the  major 
parts  of  a  public  speech  as  well. 


I.  In  the  following,  speak  the  words '' long,  long  while" 
very  slowly;  the  rest  of  the  sentence  is  spoken  in 
moderately  rapid  tempo. 

When  you  and  I  behind  the  Veil  are  past, 
Oh  but  the  long,  long  while  the  world  shall  last, 
Which  of  our  coming  and  departure  heeds. 
As  the  seven  seas  should  heed  a  pebble  cast. 

Note:  In  the  following  selections  the  passages  that 
should  be  given  a  fast  tempo  are  in  itaUcs;  those  that 
should  be  given  in  a  slow  tempo  are  in  small  capitals. 
Practise  these  selections,  and  then  try  others,  changing 
from  fast  to  slow  tempo  on  different  parts,  carefully 
noting  the  effect. 

2.    No  MiRABEAU,  Napoleon,  Burns,  Cromwell,  no  man 

ADEQUATE  tO  DO  ANTTHmO  but  is  fifSt  of  oU  in  RIGHT  EARNEST 


about  U—what  I  call  A  sincbkb  man.    I  should  say  siNCBRmr,  a 


a  man  in  any  way  heroic.  Not  the  sincerity  that  calls  itself 
sincere.  Ah  no.  That  is  a  very  poor  matter  indeed — ^A  shallow, 
BRAGGART,  CONSCIOUS  sincerity,  oftenest  self-conceit  mainly^ 
The  GREAT  man's  sincerttt  is  of  a  kind  he  cannot  speak  of. 
Is  NOT  conscious  of, — ^Thomas  Carlyle. 

3.  True  worth  is  in  being — not  seeming — in  doing  each 
day  that  goes  by  some  little  good,  not  in  dreaming  of  great 
THINGS  to  do  by  and  by.  For  whatever  men  say  in  their  blindness, 
and  in  spite  of  the  follies  of  youth,  there  is  nothing  so  kingly  as 
KINDNESS,  and  nothing  so  royal  as  truth. — Anonymous. 

4.  To  get  a  natural  effect,  where  would  you  use  slow 
and  where  fast  tempo  in  the  following? 


See  him  there,  cold  and  gray, 

Watch  him  as  he  tries  to  play; 

No,  he  doesn't  know  the  way — 

He  began  to  learn  too  late. 

She's  a  grim  old  hag,  is  Pate, 

For  she  let  him  have  his  pile. 

Smiling  to  herself  the  while, 

Knowing  what  the  cost  would  be. 

When  he'd  found  the  Golden  Key. 

Multimillionaire  is  he. 

Many  times  more  rich  than  we; 

But  at  that  I  wouldn't  trade 

With  the  bargain  that  he  made. 

Came  here  many  years  ago, 

Not  a  person  did  he  know; 

Had  the  money-htmger  bad — 

Mad  for  money,  piggish  mad; 

Didn't  let  a  joy  divert  him. 

Didn't  let  a  sorrow  hurt  him, 

Let  his  friends  and  kin  desert  him. 

While  he  planned  and  plugged  and  hurried 


On  his  quest  for  gold  and  power. 

Every  single  wakeful  hour 

With  a  money  thought  he'd  dower; 

All  the  while  as  he  grew  older. 

And  grew  bolder,  he  grew  colder. 

And  he  thought  that  some  day 

He  would  take  the  time  to  play; 

But,  say — ^he  was  wrong. 

Life's  a  song; 

In  the  spring 

Youth  can  sing  and  can  fling; 

But  joys  wing 

When  we're  older. 

Like  birds  when  it's  colder. 

The  roses  were  red  as  he  went  rushing  by, 

And  glorious  tapestries  htmg  in  the  sky. 

And  the  clover  was  waving 

'Neath  honey-bees'  slaving; 

A  bird  over  there 

Roundelayed  a  soft  air; 

But  the  man  couldn't  spare 

Time  for  gathering  flowers, 

Or  resting  in  bowers. 

Or  gazing  at  skies 

That  gladdened  the  eyes. 

So  he  kept  on  and  swept  on 

Through  mean,  sordid  years. 

Now  he's  up  to  his  ears 

In  the  choicest  of  stocks. 

He  owns  endless  blocks 

Of  houses  and  shops. 

And  the  stream  never  stops 

Pouring  into  his  banks. 

I  suppose  that  he  ranks 

Pretty  near  to  the  top. 

What  I  have  wouldn't  sop 

His  ambition  one  tittle; 

And  yet  with  my  little 

I  don't  care  to  trade 


With  the  bargain  he  made. 

Jttst  watch  him  to-day — 

See  him  trying  to  play. 

He's  come  back  for  blue  skies, 

But  they're  in  a  new  guise — 

Winter's  here,  all  is  gray, 

The  birds  are  away, 

The  meadows  are  brown, 

The  leaves  lie  aground. 

And  the  gay  brook  that  wound 

With  a  swirling  and  whirling 

Of  waters,  is  furling 

Its  bosom  in  ice. 

And  he  hasn't  the  price. 

With  all  of  his  gold, 

To  buy  what  he  sold. 

He  knows  now  the  cost 

Of  the  spring-time  he  lost. 

Of  the  flowers  he  tossed 

Prom  his  way, 

And,  say, 

He'd  pay 

Any  price  if  the  day 

Could  be  made  not  so  gray. 

He  can't  play. 

— Herbert  ICaufman.    Used  by  permission 

of  Everybody's  MagaEtne. 

Change  of  Tempo  Prevenls  Monotony 

The  canary  in  the  cage  before  the  window  is  adding  to 
the  beauty  and  charm  of  his  singing  by  a  continual  change 
of  tempo.  If  King  Solomon  had  been  an  orator  he  undoubt- 
edly would  have  gathered  wisdom  from  the  song  of  the 
wild  birds  as  well  as  from  the  bees.  Imagine  a  song 
written  with  but  quarter  notes.  Ima^e  an  auto  with 
only  one  speed. 



1.  Note  the  change  of  tempo  mdicated  in  the  following, 
and  how  it  gives  a  pleasing  variety.  Read  it  aloud.  (Fast 
tempo  is  indicated  by  italics,  slow  by  small  capitals.) 

And  he  thouglU  that  some  day  he  would  take  the  time  to  play;  hul, 
say — ^HB  WAS  WKONG.  life's  a  song;  in  the  spring  youth  can 
SING  and  can  fling;  but  joys  wing  when  we're  older,  like 
THE  BIRDS  when  it's  colder.  Tlte  roses  were  red  as  he  went  rushing 
by,  and  glorious  tapestries  hung  in  the  sky. 

2.  Turn  to  "Fools  Gold,"  on  Page  42,  and  deliver  it 
in  an  unvaried  tempo:  note  how  monotonous  is  the  re- 
sult. This  poem  requires  a  great  many  changes  of  tempo, 
and  is  an  excellent  one  for  practise. 

3.  Use  the  changes  of  tempo  indicated  in  the  following, 
noting  how  they  prevent  monotony.  Where  no  change 
of  tempo  is  indicated,  use  a  moderate  speed.  Too  much 
of  variety  would  reaUy  be  a  return  to  monotony. 


"A  MOB  KILLS  THE  WRONG  MAN"  wos  flashed  in  a  newspaper 
headline  lately.  The  mob  is  an  irresponsible,  unthinking  mass. 
//  always  destroys  but  never  constructs.   //  criticises  but  never 


Utter  a  great  truth  and  the  mob  will  hate  you.  See  how  H 
condemned  Dante  to  exile.  Encounter  the  dangers  of  the  unknown 
world  for  its  benefit,  and  the  mob  will  declare  you  crazy.  // 
ridiculed  COLUMBUS,  and  for  discovering  a  new  world  GA  VE 

Write  a  poem  to  thrill  human  hearts  with  pleasure,  and  the  mob 
wnx  allow  you  to  go  hungry:  the  blind  homer  begged  bread 
through  the  streets.  Invent  a  machine  to  save  labor  and  the 
mob  will  declare  you  its  emeny.  Less  than  a  hundred  years  ago 
a  furious  rabble  smashed  Tkimonier's  invention,  the  sewing  machine. 
Build  a  sTEAMsmp  to  carry  merchandise  and  accelerate 


TRAVEL  and  the  mob  will  call  you  a  fool,  a  mob  lined  the  shokbs 
OF  THE  Hudson  River  to  laugh  at  the  icAroEN  attempt  of 
"Pulton's  Polly/'  as  they  called  his  little  steamboat, 

Emerson  says:  "A  mob  is  a  society  of  bodies  voluntarily  be- 
reaving themselves  of  reason  and  traversing  its  work.  The  mob 
is  man  voluntarily  descended  to  the  nature  of  the  beast.  Its 
fit  hour  of  activity  is  night,  rrs  actions  are  insane,  Uke  ils 
whole  constitution.  It  persecutes  a  principle — ^rr  would  whip  a 
RIGHT.  It  would  tar  and  feather  justice  by  inflicting  fire  and  out- 
rage upon  the  house  and  persons  of  those  who  have  these." 

The  mob  spirit  stalks  abroad  in  our  land  today.  Every 
week  gives  a  fresh  victim  to  its  malignant  cry  for  blood.  There 
were  48  persons  killed  by  mobs  in  the  United  States  in  1913;  M 
in  1912,  and  71  in  1911.  Among  the  48  last  year  were  a  woman 
and  a  child.  Two  victims  were  proven  innocent  after  their  death. 

In  399  B.  c.  a  demagog  appealed  to  the  popular  mob  to 
HAVE  Socrates  put  to  death  and  he  was  sentenced  to  the  hemlock 
cup.  Pourteen  hundred  tears  afterward  an  enthusiast 
APPEALED  TO  THE  POPULAR  MOB  and  all  Europe  plunged  into  the 
Holy  Land  to  kill  and  mangle  the  heathen.  In  the  seventeenth 
century  a  demagog  appealed  to  the  ignorance  of  men  and  twenty 


FOR   WITCHCRAFT.      Two   thousand  years  ago  the  mob  yelled, 

'* RELEASE  UNTO  US  BARA BB AS''— Am  Barabbjls  was  A 


— From  an  Editorial  by  D.  C.  in  *' Leslie's  Weekly"  by  permission. 

Present-day  business  is  as  imlike  old-time  business  as  the 
OLD-TIME  OX-CART  is  tmlikc  the  present-day  locomotive.  Invention 
has  made  the  whole  world  over  again.  The  railroad,  telegraph, 
telephone  have  bound  the  people  of  modern  nations  into  fam- 
ilies. To  do  the  business  of  these  closely  knit  millions  in  every 
modem  country  great  business  concerns  came  into  being. 
What  we  call  big  business  is  the  child  of  the  economic  progress 
OF  MANKIND.  So  Warfare  to  destroy  big  business  is  foolish  be- 
cause IT  CAN  NOT  succeed  and  wicked  because  it  ought  not 
TO  succeed.  Warfare  to  destroy  big  business  does  not  hurt  big 
business,  which  always  comes  out  on  top,  so  much  as  it  hurts 

ALL  other  business  WHICH,  IN  SUCH  A  WARFARE,  NEVER  COMES 
OUT  ON  TOP. — A.  J.  Beveridge. 


Change  of  Tempo  Produces  Emphasis 

Any  big  change  of  tempo  is  emphatic  and  will  catch  the 
attention.  You  may  scarcely  be  conscious  that  a  passenger 
train  is  moving  when  it  is  fl3dng  over  the  rails  at  ninety 
miles  an  hour,  but  if  it  slows  down  very  suddenly  to  a  ten- 
mile  gait  your  attention  will  be  drawn  to  it  very  decidedly. 
You  may  forget  that  you  are  listening  to  music  as  3rou 
dine,  but  let  the  orchestra  either  increase  or  diminish  its 
tempo  in  a  very  marked  degree  and  your  attention  will 
be  arrested  at  once. 

This  same  principle  will  procure  emphasis  in  a  speech. 
If  you  have  a  point  that  you  want  to  bring  home  to  your 
audience  forcefully,  make  a  sudden  and  great  change  of 
tempo,  and  they  will  be  powerless  to  keep  from  pa3dng 
attention  to  that  point  Recentiy  the  present  writer  saw 
a  play  in  which  these  lines  were  spoken: 

"I  don't  want  you  to  forget  what  I  said.  I  want  you 
to  remember  it  the  longest  day  you — ^I  don't  care  if  you've 
got  six  guns."  The  part  up  to  the  dash  was  delivered  in 
a  very  slow  tempo,  the  remainder  was  flamed  out  at 
lightning  speed,  as  the  character  who  was  spoken  to  drew 
a  revolver.  The  effect  was  so  emphatic  that  the  lines 
are  remembered  six  months  afterwards,  while  most  of 
the  play  has  faded  from  memory.  The  student  who 
has  powers  of  observation  will  see  this  principle  applied 
by  all  our  best  actors  in  their  efforts  to  get  emphasis 
where  emphasis  is  due.  But  remember  that  the  emotion 
in  the  matter  must  warrant  the  intensity  in  the  manner, 
or  the  effect  will  be  ridiculous.  Too  many  public  speakers 
are  impressive  over  nothing. 


Thought  rather  than  rules  must  govern  you  while 

practising  change  of  pace.  It  is  often  a  matter  of  no  con- 
sequence which  part  of  a  sentence  is  spoken  slowly  and 
which  is  given  in  fast  tempo.  The  main  thing  to  be  de- 
sired is  the  change  itself.  For  example,  in  the  selection, 
''The  Mob,"  on  page  46,  note  the  last  paragraph.  Re- 
verse the  instructions  given,  delivering  everything  that 
is  marked  for  slow  tempo,  quickly;  and  everything  that 
is  marked  for  quick  tempo,  slowly.  You  will  note  that 
the  force  or  meaning  of  the  passage  has  not  been  destroyed. 
However,  many  passages  cannot  be  changed  to  a  slow 
tempo  without  destroying  their  force.  Instances:  The 
Patrick  Henry  speech  on  page  no,  and  the  following  pas- 
sage from  Whittier's  "Barefoot  Boy." 

O  for  boyhocxi's  time  of  June,  crowding  years  in  one  brief 
moon,  when  all  things  I  heard  or  saw,  me,  their  master,  waited 
for.  I  was  rich  in  flowers  and  trees,  humming-birds  and  honey- 
bees; for  my  sport  the  squirrel  played;  plied  the  snouted  mole 
his  spade;  for  my  taste  the  bladcberry  cone  purpled  over  hedge 
and  stone;  laughed  the  brook  for  my  delight  through  the  day 
and  through  the  night,  whispering  at  the  garden  wall,  talked  with 
me  from  fall  to  fall;  mine  the  sand-rimmed  pickerel  pond;  mine 
the  walnut  slopes  beyond;  mine,  on  bending  orchard  trees, 
apples  of  Hesperides!  Still,  as  my  horizon  grew,  larger  grew  my 
riches,  too ;  all  the  world  I  saw  or  knew  seemed  a  complex  Chinese 
toy,  fashioned  for  a  barefoot  boy. — ^J.  G.  WHrrnBR. 

Be  careful  in  regulating  yoiu:  tempo  not  to  get  your 
movement  too  fast.  This  is  a  common  fault  with  amateur 
speakers.  Mrs.  Siddons  rule  was,  ''Take  time."  A  hun- 
dred years  ago  there  was  used  in  medical  circles  a  prepa- 
ration known  as  "the  shot  gim  remedy;"    it  was  a  mix- 


tare  of  about  fifty  different  ingredientSi  and  was  given 
to  the  patient  in  the  hope  that  at  least  one  of  them  would 
prove  efficacious!  That  seems  a  rather  poor  scheme  for 
medical  practicei  but  it  is  good  to  use  ''shot  gun"  tempo 
for  most  speeches,  as  it  gives  a  variety.  Tempo,  like  diet, 
is  best  when  mixed. 


I.    Define  tempo. 

3.    What  words  come  from  the  same  root? 

3.  What  is  meant  by  a  change  of  tenqx)? 

4.  What  effects  are  gained  by  it? 

5.  Name  three  methods  of  destroying  monotony  and 
gaining  force  in  speaJdng. 

6.  Note  the  changes  of  tempo  in  a  conversation  or 
q;)eech  that  you  hear.  Were  they  well  made?  Why? 

7.  Read  selections  on  pages  34,  35,  36,  37,  and  38, 
paying  careful  attention  to  change  of  tempo. 

8.  As  a  rule,  excitement,  joy,  or  intense  anger  take  a 
fast  tempo,  while  sorrow,  and  sentiments  of  great  dignity 
or  solemnity  tend  to  a  slow  tempo.  Try  to  deliver  Lin- 
coln's Gettysburg  speech  (page  50),  in  a  fast  tempo,  or 
Patrick  Henry's  speech  (page  no),  in  a  slow  tempo,  and 
note  how  ridiculous  the  effect  will  be. 

Practise  the  following  selections,  noting  carefully 
where  the  tempo  may  be  changed  to  advantage. 
Experiment,  making  numerous  changes.  Which  one  do 
you  like  best? 



Fourscore  and  seven  years  ago,  our  fathers  brought  forth  upon 
this  continent  a  new  nation,  conceived  in  liberty  and  dedicated 
to  the  proposition  that  all  men  are  created  equal.  Now  we  are 
engaged  in  a  great  civil  war,  testing  whether  that  nation— or  any 
nation  so  conceived  and  so  dedicated — can  long  endure. 

We  are  met  on  a  great  battiefield  of  that  war.  We  are  met  to 
dedicate  a  portion  of  it  as  the  final  resting-place  of  those  who  have 
given  their  lives  that  that  nation  might  live.  It  is  altogether 
fitting  and  proper  that  we  should  do  this. 

But,  in  a  larger  sense,  we  cannot  dedicate,  we  cannot  conse- 
crate,  we  cannot  hallow,  this  ground.  The  brave  men,  living  and 
dead,  who  struggled  here,  have  consecrated  it,  far  above  our 
power  to  add  or  to  detract.  The  world  will  very  littie  note  nor 
long  remember  what  we  say  here;  but  it  can  never  forget  what 
they  did  here. 

It  is  for  us,  the  living,  rather,  to  be  dedicated  here  to  the  un- 
finished work  they  have  thus  far  so  nobly  carried  on.  It  is  rather 
for  us  to  be  here  dedicated  to  the  great  task  remaining  before 
us:  that  from  these  honored  dead  we  take  increased  devotion  to 
that  cause  for  which  they  here  gave  the  last  full  measure  of  de- 
votion; that  we  here  highly  resolve  that  these  dead  shall  not 
have  died  in  vain;  that  the  nation  shall,  under  God,  have  a  new 
birth  of  freedom,  and  that  government  of  the  people,  by  the 
people,  for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth. 

— ^Abraham  Lincoln. 


(This  deliberative  oration  was  delivered  by  Senator  Thurston  in  the  United 
States  Senate  on  March  24,  1808.  It  is  recorded  in  full  in  the  Congreanonal 
Record  of  that  date.  Mrs.  Thurston  died  in  Cuba.  As  a  dying  request  she 
urged  her  husband,  who  was  investigating  a£Fairs  in  the  island,  to  do  his  utmost 
to  induce  the  United  States  to  intervene — whence  this  oration.] 

Mr.  President,  I  am  here  by  command  of  sUent  lips  to  speak 
once  and  for  all  upon  the  Cuban  situation.  I  shall  endeavor  to 
be  honest,  conservative,  and  just.  I  have  no  purpose  to  stir 
the  public  passion  to  any  action  not  necessary  and  imperative 
to  meet  the  duties  and  necessities  of  American  responsibility. 


Christian  homamty,  and  national  honor.  I  would  ahirk  this  task 
if  I  could,  but  I  dare  not.  I  cannot  satisfy  my  conscience  except 
by  speaking,  and  speaking  now. 

I  went  to  Cuba  finnly  believing  that  the  condition  of  affairs 
there  had  been  greatiy  exaggerated  by  the  press,  and  my  own 
efforts  were  directed  in  the  first  instance  to  the  attempted  ex- 
posure of  these  supposed  exaggerations.  There  has  undoubtedly 
been  much  sensationalism  in  the  journalism  of  the  time,  but  as 
to  the  condition  of  affairs  in  Cuba,  there  has  been  no  exaggera- 
tion, because  exaggeration  has  been  impossible. 

Under  the  inhtunan  policy  of  Weyler  not  less  than  four  hundred 
thousand  self-supporting,  simple,  peaceable,  defenseless  country 
people  were  driven  from  their  homes  in  the  agricultural  portions 
of  the  Spanish  provinces  to  the  cities,  and  imprisoned  upon  the 
barren  waste  outside  the  residence  portions  of  these  cities  and 
within  the  lines  of  intrenchment  established  a  little  way  beyond. 
Their  humble  homes  were  burned,  their  fields  laid  waste,  their 
implements  of  husbandry  destroyed,  their  live  stock  and  food 
supplies  for  the  most  part  confiscated.  Most  of  the  people  were 
old  men,  women,  and  children.  They  were  thus  placed  in  hope- 
less imprisonment,  without  shelter  or  food.  There  was  no  work 
for  them  in  the  cities  to  which  they  were  driven.  They  were  left 
with  nothing  to  depend  upon  except  the  scanty  charity  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  cities  and  with  slow  starvation  their  inevit- 
able fate.    .    .    . 

The  pictures  in  the  American  newspapers  of  the  starving  recon- 
centrados  are  true.  They  can  all  be  duplicated  by  the  thousands. 
I  never  before  saw,  and  please  God  I  may  never  again  see,  so 
deplorable  a  sight  as  the  reconcentrados  in  the  suburbs  of  Ma- 
tanzas.  I  can  never  f oi^get  to  my  dymg  day  the  hopeless  anguish 
in  their  despairing  eyes.  Huddled  about  their  little  bark  huts, 
they  raised  no  voice  of  appeal  to  us  for  alms  as  we  went  among 
them.    •    •    • 

Men,  women,  and  children  stand  silent,  famishing  with  hunger. 
Their  only  appeal  comes  from  their  sad  eyes,  through  which  one 
looks  as  through  an  open  window  into  their  agonizing  souls. 

The  government  of  Spain  has  not  appropriated  and  will  not 
appropriate  one  dollar  to  save  these  people.  They  are  now  be- 
ing attended  and  nursed  and  administered  to  by  the  charity  of 


the  United  States.  Think  of  the  spectacle !  We  are  feeding  these 
citizens  of  Spain;  we  are  nursing  their  sick;  we  are  saving  such 
as  can  be  saved,  and  yet  there  are  those  who  still  say  it  is  right 
for  us  to  send  food,  but  we  must  keep  hands  off.  I  say  that  the 
time  has  come  when  muskets  ought  to  go  with  the  food. 

We  asked  the  governor  if  he  knew  of  any  relief  for  these 
people  except  through  the  charity  of  the  United  States.  He  did 
not.  We  asked  him,  "When  do  you  think  the  time  will  come 
that  these  people  can  be  placed  in  a  position  of  self-support?" 
He  replied  to  us,  with  deep  feeling,  "Only  the  good  God  or  the 
great  government  of  the  United  States  will  answer  that  question." 
I  hope  and  believe  that  the  good  God  by  the  great  government 
of  the  United  States  will  answer  that  question. 

I  shall  refer  to  these  horrible  things  no  further.  They  are  there. 
God  pity  me,  I  have  seen  them;  they  will  remain  in  my  mind 
forever — and  this  is  almost  the  twentieth  century.  Christ  died 
nineteen  htmdred  years  ago,  and  Spain  is  a  Christian  nation. 
She  has  set  up  more  crosses  in  more  lands,  beneath  more  skies, 
and  under  them  has  butchered  more  people  than  all  the  other 
nations  of  the  earth  combined.  Europe  may  tolerate  her  ezia- 
tenoe  as  long  as  the  people  of  the  Old  World  wish.  God  grant 
that  before  another  Christmas  morning  the  last  vestige  of  Spanish 
tyranny  and  oppression  will  have  vanished  from  the  Western 
Hemi^here!    •    • 

The  time  for  action  has  come.  No  greater  reason  for  it  can 
exist  to-morrow  than  exists  to-day.  Every  hour's  delay  only 
adds  another  chapter  to  the  awful  story  of  misery  and  death. 
Only  one  power  can  intervene — ^the  United  States  of  America. 
Ours  is  the  one  great  nation  in  the  world,  the  mother  of  American 
republics.  She  holds  a  position  of  trust  and  responsibility  toward 
the  peoples  and  affairs  of  the  whole  Western  Hemisphere.  It 
was  her  glorious  example  which  inspired  the  patriots  of  Cuba 
to  raise  the  flag  of  liberty  in  her  eternal  hills.  We  cannot  refuae 
to  accept  this  responsibility  which  the  God  of  the  universe  has 
placed  upon  us  as  the  one  great  power  in  the  New  World.  We 
must  act!    What  shall  our  action  be? 

Against  the  intervention  of  the  United  States  in  this  holy 
cause  there  is  but  one  voice  of  dissent;  that  voice  is  the  votoe 
d  the  money-changers.    They  fear  warl    Not  hecaxae  of  any 


Christian  or  ennobling  sentiment  against  war  and  in  favor  of 
peace,  but  because  they  fear  that  a  declaration  of  war,  or  the 
intervention  which  might  result  in  war,  would  have  a  depressing 
effect  upon  the  stock  market.  Let  them  gg.  They  do  not  repre- 
sent American  sentiment;  they  do  not  represent  American 
patriotism.  Let  them  take  their  chances  as  they  can.  Their 
weal  or  woe  is  of  but  little  importance  to  the  liberty-loving 
people  of  the  United  States.  They  will  not  do  the  fighting;  their 
blood  will  not  flow;  they  will  keep  on  dealing  in  options  on  human 
life.  Let  the  men  whose  loyalty  is  to  the  dollar  stand  aside  while 
the  men  whose  loyalty  is  to  the  flag  come  to  the  front. 

Mr.  President,  there  is  only  one  action  possible,  if  any  is 
taken;  that  is,  intervention  for  the  independence  of  the  island. 
But  we  cannot  intervene  and  save  Cuba  without  the  exercise 
of  force,  and  force  means  war;  war  means  blood.  The  lowly 
Nazarene  on  the  shores  of  Galilee  preached  the  divine  doctrine 
of  love,  "Peace  on  earth,  good  will  toward  men."  Not  peace  on 
earth  at  the  expense  of  liberty  and  htunanity.  Not  good  will 
toward  men  who  despoil,  enslave,  degrade,  and  starve  to  death 
their  fellow-men.  I  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ.  I  believe 
in  the  doctrine  of  peace;  but,  Mr.  President,  men  must  have 
liberty  before  there  can  come  abiding  peace. 

Intervention  means  force.  Force  means  war.  War  means 
blood.  But  it  will  be  God's  force.  When  has  a  battle  for  hu- 
manity and  liberty  ever  been  won  except  by  force?  What  barri- 
cade of  wrong,  injustice,  and  oppression  has  ever  been  carried 
except  by  force? 

Force  compelled  the  signature  of  unwilling  royalty  to  the  great 
Magna  Charta;  force  put  life  into  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence and  made  effective  the  Emancipation  Proclamation;  force 
beat  with  naked  hands  upon  the  iron  gateway  of  the  Bastile 
and  made  reprisal  in  one  awful  hour  for  centuries  of  kingly  crime; 
force  waved  the  flag  of  revolution  over  Btmker  Hill  and  marked 
the  snows  of  Valley  Forge  with  blood-stained  feet;  force  held 
the  broken  line  of  Shiloh,  climbed  the  flame-swept  hill  at  Chat- 
tanooga, and  stormed  the  clouds  on  Lookout  Heights;  force 
marched  with  Sherman  to  the  sea,  rode  with  Sheridan  in  the 
valley  of  the  Shenandoah,  and  gave  Grant  victory  at  Appomat- 
tox;   force  saved  the  Union,  kept  the  stars  in  the  fl^,  made 



niggers"  men.  The  time  for  God's  force  has  come  again.  Let 
the  impassioned  lips  of  American  patriots  once  more  take  up  the 
song: — 

"In  the  beauty  of  the  liliee,  Christ  w»a  bom  aeroas  the  tea. 
With  a  dory  in  His  boaom  that  tnuisfiguies  srou  and  me; 
As  He  died  to  make  men  holy*  let  ns  die  to  make  men  free. 
While  God  is  marohing  on." 

Others  may  hesitate,  others  may  procrastinate,  others  may 
plead  for  further  diplomatic  negotiation,  which  means  delay; 
but  for  me,  I  am  ready  to  act  now,  and  for  my  action  I  am  ready 
to  answer  to  my  consdenoe,  my  country,  and  my  God. 

— ^Jambs  Mbllbn  Thurston. 



The  true  btisiness  of  the  literary  artist  is  to  plait  or  weave  his 
meaning,  involving  it  around  itself;  so  that  each  sentenoe,  by 
successive  phrases,  shall  first  come  into  a  kind  of  knot,  and  then, 
after  a  moment  of  suspended  meaning,  solve  and  clear  itself. 

— GsbRGE  Saintsbury,  on  English  Prose 
Style,  in  Miscellaneous  Essays, 

.  .  .  pause  .  .  .  has  a  distinctive  value,  expressed  in 
silence;  in  other  words,  while  the  voice  is  waiting,  the  music 
of  the  movement  is  going  on  ...  To  manage  it,  with  its 
delicacies  and  compensations,  requires  that  same  fineness  of  ear 
on  which  we  must  depend  for  all  faultless  prose  rhythm.  When 
there  is  no  compensation,  when  the  pause  is  inadvertent  .  .  . 
there  is  a  sense  of  jolting  and  lack,  as  if  some  pin  or  fastening  had 
fallen  out. 

— John  Franklin  Genung,  The  Working 
Principles  of  Rhetoric. 

Pause,  in  public  speech,  is  not  mere  silence — ^it  is 
silence  made  designedly  eloquent. 

When  a  man  says:  ''I-uh-it  is  with  profound-ah-pleas- 
ure  that-er-I  have  been  permitted  to  speak  to  you  tonight 
and-uh-uh-I  should  say-er" — ^that  is  not  pausing;  that  is 
stumbling.  It  is  conceivable  that  a  speaker  may  be  effec- 
tive in  spite  of  stumbling — but  never  because  of  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  one  of  the  most  important  means 
of  developing  power  in  public  speaking  is  to  pause  either 
before  or  after,  or  both  before  and  after,  an  important 
word  or  phrase.    No  one  who  would  be  a  forceful  speaker 


can  afford  to  neglect  this  principle — one  of  the  most 
significant  that  has  ever  been  inferred  from  listening  to 
great  orators.  Study  this  potential  device  until  you  have 
absorbed  and  assimilated  it. 

It  would  seem  that  this  principle  of  rhetorical  pause 
ought  to  be  easily  grasped  and  applied,  but  a  long  ex- 
perience in  training  both  college  men  and  maturer  speakers 
has  demonstrated  that  the  device  is  no  more  readily  under- 
stood by  the  average  man  when  it  is  first  explained  to  him 
than  if  it  were  spoken  in  Hindoostani.  Perhaps  this  is 
because  we  do  not  eagerly  devour  the  fruit  of  experience 
when  it  is  impressively  set  before  us  on  the  platter  of 
authority;  we  like  to  pluck  fruit  for  ourselves — ^it  not 
only  tastes  better,  but  we  never  foiget  that  tree!  For- 
tunately, this  is  no  difficult  task,  in  this  instance,  for  the 
trees  stand  thick  all  about  us. 

One  man  is  pleading  the  cause  of  another: 

"This  man,  my  friends,  has  made  this  wonderftd  sacrifice — 
for  you  and  me." 

Did  not  the  pause  surprisingly  enhance  the  power  of 
this  statement?  See  how  he  gathered  up  reserve  force 
and  impressiveness  to  deliver  the  words  "for  you  and  me." 
Repeat  this  passage  without  making  a  pause.  Did  it  lose 
in  effectiveness? 

Naturally  enough,  during  a  premeditated  pause  of  this 
kind  the  mind  of  the  speaker  is  concentrated  on  the 
thought  to  which  he  is  about  to  give  expression.  He  will 
not  dare  to  allow  his  thoughts  to  wander  for  an  instant — ^he 
will  rather  supremely  center  his  thought  and  his  emotion 


upon  the  sacrifice  whose  service,  sweetness  and  divinity 
he  is  enforcing  by  his  appeal. 

Conceniralian,  then,  is  the  big  word  here — ^no  pause 
without  it  can  perfectly  hit  the  mark. 

Efficient  pausing  accomplishes  one  or  all  of  four  results: 

J.  Pause  Enables  the  Mind  of  the  Speaker  to  Gather  His 
Forces  Before  Delivering  the  Final  Volley 

It  is  often  dangerous  to  rush  into  battle  without  pausing 
for  preparation  or  waiting  for  recruits.  Consider  Ctister's 
massacre  as  an  instance. 

You  can  light  a  match  by  holding  it  beneath  a  lens  and 
concentrating  the  sim's  rays.  You  would  not  expect  the 
match  to  flame  if  you  jerked  the  lens  back  and  forth 
quickly.  Pause,  and  the  lens  gathers  the  heat.  Your 
thoughts  will  not  set  fire  to  the  minds  of  your  hearers  un- 
less you  pause  to  gather  the  force  that  comes  by  a  second 
or  two  of  concentration.  Maple  trees  and  gas  wells  are 
rarely  tapped  continually;  when  a  stronger  flow  is  wanted, 
a  pause  is  made,  nature  has  time  to  gather  her  reserve 
forces,  and  when  the  tree  or  the  well  is  reopened,  a 
stronger  flow  is  the  result. 

Use  the  same  common  sense  with  your  mind.  If  you 
would  make  a  thought  particularly  effective,  pause  just 
before  its  utterance,  concentrate  your  mind-energies,  and 
then  give  it  expression  with  renewed  vigor.  Carlyle  was 
right:  ''Speak  not,  I  passionately  entreat  thee,  till  thy 
thought  has  silently  matured  itself.  Out  of  silence  comes 
thy  strength.  Speech  is  silvern,  Silence  is  golden;  Speech 
is  human,  Silence  is  divine." 


Silence  has  been  called  the  father  of  speech.  It  should 
be.  Too  many  of  our  public  speeches  have  no  fathers. 
They  ramble  along  without  pause  or  break.  like  Tenny- 
son's brook,  they  run  on  forever.  Listen  to  little  childreo, 
the  policeman  on  the  comer,  the  family  conversation 
aroimd  the  table,  and  see  how  many  pauses  they  naturally 
use,  for  they  are  imconsdous  of  effects.  When  we  get 
before  an  audience,  we  throw  most  of  our  natural  methods 
of  expression  to  the  wind,  and  strive  after  artificial  effects. 
Get  back  to  the  methods  of  nature — ^and  pause. 

2.  Pause  Prepares  the  Mind  of  the  Auditor  to  Receive 

Your  Message 

Herbert  Spencer  said  that  all  the  universe  is  in  motion. 
So  it  is — and  all  perfect  motion  is  rhythm.  Part  of  rhythm 
is  rest.  Rest  follows  activity  all  through  nature.  In- 
stances: day  and  night;  spring — summer — autumn — 
winter;  a  period  of  rest  between  breaths;  an  instant  of 
complete  rest  between  heart  beats.  Pause,  and  give  the 
attention-powers  of  your  audience  a  rest.  What  you  say 
after  such  a  silence  will  then  have  a  great  deal  more  effect. 

When  your  coimtry  cousins  come  to  town,  the  noise 
of  a  passing  car  will  awaken  them,  though  it  seldom  affects 
a  seasoned  dty  dweller.  By  the  continual  passing  of  cars 
his  attention-power  has  become  deadened.  In  one  who 
visits  the  dty  but  seldom,  attention-value  is  insistent. 
To  him  the  noise  comes  after  a  long  pause;  hence  its 
power.  To  you,  dweller  in  the  dty,  there  is  no  pause; 
hence  the  low  attention-value.    After  riding  on  a  train 


several  hours  you  will  become  so  accustomed  to  its  roar 
that  it  will  lose  its  attention-value,  unless  the  train  should 
stop  for  a  while  and  start  again.  If  you  attempt  to  listen 
to  a  dock-tick  that  is  so  far  away  that  you  can  barely 
hear  it,  you  will  find  that  at  times  you  are  unable  to  dis- 
tinguish it,  but  in  a  few  moments  the  soimd  becomes  dis- 
tinct again.  Your  mind  will  pause  for  rest  whether  you 
desire  it  to  do  so  or  not. 

The  attention  of  yom:  audience  will  act  in  quite  the 
same  way.  Recognize  this  law  and  prepare  for  it — ^by 
pausing.  Let  it  be  repeated:  the  thought  that  follows  a 
pause  is  much  more  dynamic  than  if  no  pause  had  oc- 
curred. What  is  said  to  you  of  a  night  will  not  have  the 
same  effect  on  your  mind  as  if  it  had  been  uttered  in  the 
morning  when  your  attention  had  been  lately  refreshed  by 
the  pause  of  sleep.  We  are  told  on  the  first  page  of  the 
Bible  that  even  the  Creative  Energy  of  God  rested  on  the 
"seventh  day."  You  may  be  sure,  then,  that  the  frail 
finite  mind  of  your  audience  will  likewise  demand  rest. 
Observe  nature,  study  her  laws,  and  obey  them  in  your 

5.  Pause  Creates  Effective  Suspense 

Suspense  is  responsible  for  a  great  share  of  our  interest 
in  life;  it  will  be  the  same  with  your  speech.  A  play  or  a 
novel  is  often  robbed  of  much  of  its  interest  if  you  know 
the  plot  beforehand.  We  like  to  keep  guessing  as  to  the 
outcome.  The  ability  to  create  suspense  is  part  of  wo- 
man's power  to  hold  the  other  sex.  The  drcus  acrobat 
employs  this  prindple  when  he  fails  purposely  in  several 


attempts  to  perfonn  a  feat,  and  then  achieves  it.  Even 
the  deliberate  manner  in  which  he  arranges  the  pre- 
liminaries increases  our  expectation — ^we  like  to  be  kept 
waiting.  In  the  last  act  of  the  play,  "  Polly  of  the  Circus," 
there  is  a  circus  scene  in  which  a  little  dog  turns  a  backward 
somersault  on  the  back  of  a  running  pony.  On  nights 
when  he  hesitated  and  had  to  be  coaxed  and  worked  with 
a  long  time  before  he  would  perform  his  feat  he  got  a  great 
deal  more  applause  than  when  he  did  his  trick  at  once. 
We  not  only  like  to  wait  but  we  appreciate  what  we  wait 
for.  If  fish  bite  too  readily  the  sport  soon  ceases  to  be 
a  sport. 

It  is  this  same  principle  of  suspense  that  holds  you  in  a 
Sherlock  Holmes  story — you  wait  to  see  how  the  mystery 
is  solved,  and  if  it  is  solved  too  soon  you  throw  down  the 
tale  unfinished.  Wilkie  Collins'  receipt  for  fiction  writing 
well  applies  to  public  speech :  "  Make  'em  laugh ;  make  'em 
weep;  make  'em  wait."  Above  all  else  make  them  wait; 
if  they  will  not  do  that  you  may  be  sure  they  wiU  neither 
laugh  nor  weep. 

Thus  pause  is  a  valuable  instrument  in  the  hands  of  a 
trained  speaker  to  arouse  and  maintain  suspense.  We  once 
heard  Mr.  Bryan  say  in  a  speech:  "It  was  my  privilege 
to  hear" — ^and  he  paused,  while  the  audience  wondered 
for  a  second  whom  it  was  his  privilege  to  hear — "the 
great  evangelist" — and  he  paused  again;  we  knew  a  little 
more  about  the  man  he  had  heard,  but  still  wondered  to 
which  evangelist  he  referred;  and  then  he  concluded: 
"Dwight  L.  Moody."  Mr.  Bryan  paused  slightly  again 
and  continued:  "I  came  to  regard  him" — ^here  he  paused 


again  and  held  the  audience  in  a  brief  moment  of  suspense 
as  to  how  he  had  r^arded  Mr.  Moody,  then  continued — 
''as  the  greatest  preacher  of  his  day."  Let  the  dashes 
illustrate  pauses  and  we  have  the  following: 

"It  was  my  privilege  to  hear — ^the  great  evangelist — Dwight 
L.  Mocxiy. — I  came  to  i^^ard  him — as  the  greatest  preacher  of 
his  day." 

The  unskilled  speaker  would  have  rattled  this  off  with 
neither  pause  nor  suspense,  and  the  sentences  would  have 
fallen  flat  upon  the  audience.  It  is  precisely  the  applica- 
tion of  these  small  things  that  makes  much  of  the  difference 
between  the  successful  and  the  imsuccessful  speaker. 

4.  Pausing  After  An  ImportatU  Idea  Gives  U  Time  to 


Any  Missouri  farmer  will  tell  you  that  a  rain  that  falls 
too  fast  will  run  off  into  the  creeks  and  do  the  crops  but 
little  good.  A  story  is  told  of  a  coimtry  deacon  praying 
for  rain  in  this  manner:  ''Lord,  don't  send  us  any  chimk 
floater.  Just  give  us  a  good  old  drizzle-drazzle."  A 
speech,  like  a  rain,  will  not  do  anybody  much  good  if  it 
comes  too  fast  to  soak  in.  The  farmer's  wife  follows  this 
same  principle  in  doing  her  washing  when  she  puts  the 
clothes  in  water — and  pauses  for  several  hours  that  the 
water  may  soak  in.  The  physician  puts  cocaine  on  your 
turbinates — and  pauses  to  let  it  take  hold  before  he  re- 
moves them.  Why  do  we  use  this  principle  everywhere 
except  in  the  conmiunication  of  ideas?  If  you  have  given 
the  audience  a  big  idea,  pause  for  a  second  or  two  and  let 


them  turn  it  over.  See  what  effect  it  has.  After  the  smoke 
dears  away  you  may  have  to  fire  another  14-inch  shell  on 
the  same  subject  before  you  demolish  the  citadel  of  error 
that  you  are  trying  to  destroy.  Take  time.  Don't  let 
your  speech  resemble  those  tourists  who  try  "to  do" 
New  York  in  a  day.  They  spend  fifteen  minutes  looking 
at  the  masterpieces  in  the  Metropolitan  Museiun  of  Arts, 
ten  minutes  in  the  Museiun  of  Natural  History,  take  a 
peep  into  the  Aquarium,  hurry  across  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge,  rush  up  to  the  Zoo,  and  back  by  Grant's  Tomb — 
and  call  that  "Seeing  New  York."  If  you  hasten  by  your 
important  points  without  pausing,  your  audience  will 
have  just  about  as  adequate  an  idea  of  what  you  have 
tried  to  convey. 

Take  time,  you  have  just  as  much  of  it  as  our  richest 
multimillionaire.  Your  audience  will  wait  for  you.  It  is 
a  sign  of  smallness  to  hurry.  The  great  redwood  trees  of 
California  had  burst  through  the  soil  five  hundred  years 
before  Socrates  drank  his  cup  of  hemlock  poison,  and  are 
only  in  their  prime  today.  Nature  shames  us  with  our 
petty  haste.  Silence  is  one  of  the  most  eloquent  things  in 
the  world.   Master  it,  and  use  it  through  pause. 

In  the  following  selections  dashes  have  been  inserted 
where  pauses  may  be  used  effectively.  Naturally,  you 
may  omit  some  of  these  and  insert  others  without  going 
wrong — one  speaker  would  interpret  a  passage  in  one 
way,  one  in  another;  it  is  largely  a  matter  of  personal  pref- 
erence. A  dozen  great  actors  have  played  Hamlet  well, 
and  yet  each  has  played  the  part  differently.     Whidi 


comes  the  nearest  to  perfection  is  a  question  of  opinion. 
You  will  succeed  best  by  daring  to  follow  your  own  course 
— ^if  you  are  individual  enough  to  blaze  an  original  trail. 

A  moment's  halt — a  momentary  taste  of  being  from  the  well 
amid  the  waste — and  lo!  the  phantom  caravan  has  reached — 
the  nothing  it  set  out  from — Oh  make  haste! 

The  worldly  hope  men  set  their  hearts  upon — ^tums  ashes — 
or  it  prospers; — and  anon  like  snow  upon  the  desert's  dusty  face — 
lighting  a  little  hour  or  two — is  gone. 

The  bird  of  time  has  but  a  little  way  to  flutter, — and  the  bird 
is  on  the  wing. 

You  will  note  that  the  pimctuation  marks  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  pausing.  You  may  nm  by  a  period  ver}^ 
quickly  and  make  a  long  pause  where  there  is  no  kind  of 
punctuation.  Thought  is  greater  than  punctuation.  It 
must  guide  you  in  your  pauses. 

A  book  of  verses  underneath  the  bough, — ^a  jug  of  wine,  a 
loaf  of  bread — and  thou  beside  me  singing  in  the  wilderness — 
Oh — ^wildemess  were  paradise  enow. 

You  must  not  confuse  the  pause  for  emphasis  with  the 
natural  pauses  that  come  through  taking  breath  and 
phrasing.  For  example,  note  the  pauses  indicated  in 
this  selection  from  Byron: 

But  huski — harki — that  deep  sotmd  breaks  in  once  more, 
And  nearer! — clearer! — deadlier  than  before. 
Arm,  akm! —  it  is — it  is  the  camion's  opening  roar! 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  at  length  upon  these  obvious 
distinctions.  You  will  observe  that  in  natural  conversa- 
tion our  words  are  gathered  into  clusters  or  phrases,  and 


we  often  pause  tx>  take  breath  between  them.  So  in  public 
speech,  breathe  naturally  and  do  not  talk  until  you  must 
gasp  for  breath;  nor  until  the  audience  is  equally  winded. 

A  serious  word  of  caution  must  here  be  uttered:  do  not 
overwork  the  pause.  To  do  so  will  make  your  speech 
heavy  and  stilted.  And  do  not  think  that  pause  can  trans- 
mute conunonplace  thoughts  into  great  and  dignified 
utterance.  A  grand  manner  combined  with  insignificant 
ideas  is  like  harnessing  a  Hambletonian  with  an  ass. 
You  remember  the  fardcal  old  school  declamation,  '^A 
Midnight  Murder,"  that  proceeded  in  grandiose  man- 
ner to  a  thrilling  climax,  and  ended — "and  relentlessly 
murdered — a  mosquito!" 

The  pause,  dramatically  handled,  always  drew  a  laugh 
from  the  tolerant  hearers.  This  is  all  very  well  in  farce, 
but  such  anti-climax  becomes  painful  when  the  speaker 
falls  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  quite  unintention- 
ally. The  pause,  to  be  effective  in  some  other  manner  than 
in  that  of  the  boomerang,  must  precede  or  follow  a  thought 
that  is  really  worth  while,  or  at  least  an  idea  whose  bearing 
upon  the  rest  of  the  speech  is  important. 

WiUiam  Pittenger  relates  in  his  volume,  "Extem|>ore 
Speech,"  an  instance  of  the  imconsdously  farcical  use  of 
the  pause  by  a  really  great  American  statesman  and  orator. 
"He  had  visited  Niagara  Falls  and  was  to  make  an  oration 
at  Buffalo  the  same  day,  but,  unfortunately,  he  sat  too 
long  over  the  wine  after  dinner.  When  he  arose  to  speak, 
the  oratorical  instinct  struggled  with  difficulties,  as  he 
declared, '  Gentlemen,  I  have  been  to  look  upon  your  mag— 
mag-magnificent  cataract,  one  himdred-and  forty-seven 


-feet  high !  Gentlemen,  Greece  and  Rome  in  their  pahniest 
days  never  had  a  cataract  one  hundred-and  forty-seven— 
feet  high!'" 


1.  Name  four  methods  for  destroying  monotony  and 
gaining  power  in  speaking. 

2.  What  are  the  four  special  effects  of  pause? 

3.  Note  the  pauses  in  a  conversation,  play,  or  speech. 
Were  they  the  best  that  could  have  been  used?   Illustrate. 

4.  Read  aloud  selections  on  pages  50-54,  pa3dng 
special  attention  to  pause. 

5.  Read  the  following  without  making  any  pauses. 
Reread  correctly  and  note  the  difference: 

Soon  thei  night  will  pass;  and  when,  of  the  Sentinel  on  the  ram- 
parts of  Liberty  the  anxious  ask:  |  ''Watchman,  what  of  the 
night?"  his  answer  will  be  |  "Lo,  the  mom  appeareth." 

Knowing  the  price  we  must  pay,  |  the  sacrifice  |  we  must 
make,  |  the  burdens  |  we  must  carry,  |  the  assaults  |  we  must  en- 
dure, I  knowing  full  well  the  cost,  |  yet  we  enlist,  and  we  enlist  |  for 
the  war.  |  For  we  know  the  justice  of  our  cause,  |  and  we  know, 
too,  its  certain  triumph.  | 

Not  reluctantly,  then,  |  but  eagerly,  |  not  with  faint  hearts,  |  but 
strong,  do  we  now  advance  upon  the  enemies  of  the  people.  |  For 
the  call  that  comes  to  us  is  the  caU  that  came  to  our  fathers.  |  As 
they  responded,  so  shall  we. 

"He  hath  sounded  forth  a  trumpet  |  that  shall  never 

call  retreat. 
He  is  sifting  out  the  hearts  of  men  |  before  His  judgment 

Oh,  be  swift  |  our  souls  to  answer  Him,  |  be  jubilant 
our  feet. 

Our  God  I  is  marching  on." 
— ^Albert  J.  BEVBRmcE,  Prom  his  speuh  as  temporary  chair- 
man of  Progressive  National  Cowoeniion^  Chicago,  191$. 


6.  Bring  out  the  contrasting  ideas  in  the  following  by 
using  the  pause: 

Contrast  now  the  drcamstanoes  of  your  life  and  mine,  gently 
and  with  temper,  .Aschines;  and  then  ask  these  people  whose 
fortune  they  would  each  of  them  prefer.  You  taught  reading, 
I  went  to  school:  you  performed  initiations,  I  receiyed  them: 
you  danced  in  the  chorus,  I  furnished  it:  you  were  assembly- 
clerk,  I  was  a  speaker:  you  acted  third  parts,  I  heard  you:  you 
broke  down,  and  I  hissed:  you  have  worked  as  a  statesman  for 
the  enemy,  I  for  my  country.  I  pass  by  the  rest;  but  this  veiy 
day  I  am  on  my  probation  for  a  crown,  and  am  acknowledged 
to  be  innocent  of  all  offence;  while  you  are  already  judged  to  be 
a  pettifogger,  and  the  question  is,  whether  you  shall  continue 
that  trade,  or  at  once  be  silenced  by  not  getting  a  fifth  part  of 
the  votes.  A  happy  fortune,  do  you  see,  you  have  enjoyed,  that 
you  should  denounce  mine  as  miserable! — Demosthbnbs. 

7.  After  careful  study  and  practice,  mark  the  pauses 
in  the  following: 

The  past  rises  before  me  like  a  dream.  Again  we  are  in  the 
great  struggle  for  national  life.  We  hear  the  sounds  of  prepara- 
tion— ^the  music  of  the  boisterous  drums,  the  silver  voices  of 
heroic  bugles.  We  see  thousands  of  assemblages,  and  hear  the 
appeals  of  orators;  we  see  the  pale  cheeks  of  women  and  the 
flushed  faces  of  men;  and  in  those  assemblages  we  see  all  the 
dead  whose  dust  we  have  covered  with  flowers.  We  lose  sight 
of  them  no  more.  We  are  with  them  when  they  enlist  in  the  great 
army  of  freedom.  We  see  them  part  from  those  they  love.  Some 
are  walking  for  the  last  time  in  quiet  woody  places  with  the  maidens 
they  adore.  We  hear  the  whisperings  and  the  sweet  vows  of 
eternal  love  as  they  lingeringly  part  forever.  Others  are  bending 
over  cradles,  kissing  babies  that  are  asleep.  Some  are  receiving 
the  blessings  of  old  men.  Some  are  parting  from  those  who  hold 
them  and  press  them  to  their  hearts  again  and  again,  and  say 
nothing;  and  some  are  talking  with  wives,  and  endeavoring  with 
brave  words  spoken  in  the  old  tones  to  drive  from  their  hearts  the 
awful  fear.    We  see  them  part.    We  see  the  wife  standing  in  the 


door,  with  the  babe  in  her  arma — standing  in  the  sunlight  sobbing; 

at  the  turn  of  the  road  a  hand  waves — she  answers  by  holding 

high  in  her  loving  hands  the  child.     He  is  gone — and  forever. 

— ^RoBBRT  J.  Ingbrsoll,  to  the  Soldiers  of  Indianapolis, 

8.  Where  would  you  pause  in  the  foUowing  selections? 
Try  pausing  in  difiFerent  places  and  note  the  effect  it  gives. 

The  moving  finger  writes;  and  having  writ  moves  on:  nor 
all  your  piety  nor  wit  shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  line, 
nor  all  your  tears  wash  out  a  word  of  it. 

The  history  of  womankind  is  a  story  of  abuse.  For  ages  men 
beat,  sold,  and  abused  their  wives  and  daughters  like  cattle.  The 
Spartan  mother  that  gave  birth  to  one  of  her  own  sex  disgraced 
herself;  the  girl  babies  were  often  deserted  in  the  mountains  to 
starve;  China  bound  and  deformed  their  feet;  Turkey  veiled 
their  faces;  America  denied  them  equal  educational  advantages 
with  men.  Most  of  the  world  still  refuses  them  the  right  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  government  and  ever3rwhere  women  bear  the 
brunt  of  an  unequal  standard  of  morality. 

But  the  women  are  on  the  march.  They  are  walking  upward 
to  the  sunlit  plains  where  the  thinking  people  rule.  China 
has  ceased  binding  their  feet.  In  the  shadow  of  the  Harem 
Turkey  has  opened  a  school  for  girls.  America  has  given  the 
women  equal  educational  advantages,  and  America,  we  believe, 
will  enfranchise  them. 

We  can  do  little  to  help  and  not  much  to  hinder  this  great 
movement.  The  thinking  people  have  put  their  O.  K.  upon  it. 
It  is  moving  forward  to  its  goal  just  as  surely  as  this  old  earth 
is  swinging  from  the  grip  of  winter  toward  the  spring's  blossoms 
and  the  summer's  harvest.^ 

9.  Read  aloud  the  following  address,  paying  careful 
attention  to  pause  wherever  the  emphasis  may  thereby 
be  heightened. 


...  At  last,  the  Republican'party  has  appeared.    It  avows,  now, 

iFrom  an  editorial  by  D.  C.  in  Le$M9  Weekly,  June  4. 1014.    Uaed  by 


as  the  Republican  party  of  1800  did,  in  one  word,  its  faith  and 
its  works,  "Eqtial  and  exact  justice  to  all  men."  Even  when  it 
first  entered  the  field,  only  half  organized,  it  struck  a  blow  which 
only  just  failed  to  secure  complete  and  tritunphant  victory. 
In  this,  its  second  campaign,  it  has  already  won  advantages 
which  render  that  triumph  now  both  easy  and  certain.  The 
secret  of  its  assured  success  lies  in  that  very  characteristic  which, 
in  the  mouth  of  scofiEers,  constitutes  its  great  and  lasting  imbecil- 
ity and  reproach.  It  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a  party  of  one  idea; 
but  that  is  a  noble  one — an  idea  that  fills  and  expands  all  gen- 
erous souls;  the  idea  of  equality  of  all  men  before  human  tri- 
bunals and  human  laws,  as  they  all  are  equal  before  the  Divine 
tribtmal  and  Divine  laws. 

I  know,  and  you  know,  that  a  revolution  has  begun.  I  know, 
and  all  the  world  knows,  that  revolutions  never  go  backward. 
Twenty  senators  and  a  hundred  representatives  proclaim  boldly 
in  Congress  to-day  sentiments  and  opinions  and  principles  of 
freedom  which  hardly  so  many  men,  even  in  this  free  State, 
dared  to  utter  in  their  own  homes  twenty  years  ago.  While  the 
government  of  the  United  States,  under  the  conduct  of  the  Demo- 
cratic party,  has  been  aU  that  time  surrendering  one  plain  and 
castle  after  another  to  slavery,  the  people  of  the  United  States 
have  been  no  less  steadily  and  perseveringly  gathering  together 
the  forces  with  which  to  recover  back  again  all  the  fields  and  aU 
the  castles  which  have  been  lost,  and  to  confound  and  overthrow, 
by  one  decisive  blow,  the  betrayers  of  the  Constitution  and  free- 
dom forever. — ^W.  H.  Seward. 



How  soft  the  music  of  those  village  bells, 
Falling  at  intervals  upon  the  ear 
In  cadence  sweet;  now  dying  all  away, 
Now  pealing  loud  again,  and  louder  still. 
Clear  and  sonorous,  as  the  gale  comes  on! 
With  easy  force  it  opens  all  the  cells 
Where  Memory  slept. 

— ^William  Cowper,  The  Task. 

Herbert  Spencer  remarked  that  "Cadence" — ^by  which 
he  meant  the  modulation  of  the  tones  of  the  voice  in 
speaking — "is  the  running  commentary  of  the  emotions 
upon  the  propositions  of  the  intellect."  How  true  this  is 
will  appear  when  we  reflect  that  the  little  upward  and 
downward  shadings  of  the  voice  tell  more  truly  what  we 
mean  than  our  words.  The  expressiveness  of  language 
is  literally  multiplied  by  this  subtle  power  to  shade  the 
vocal  toneSy  and  this  voice-shading  we  call  inflection. 

The  change  of  pitch  within  a  word  is  even  more  im- 
portant, because  more  delicate,  than  the  change  of  pitch 
from  phrase  to  phrase.  Indeed,  one  cannot  be  practised 
without  the  other.  The  bare  words  are  only  so  many 
bricks — ^inflection  will  make  of  them  a  pavement,  a  garage, 
or  a  cathedral.  It  is  the  power  of  inflection  to  change  the 
meaning  of  words  that  gave  birth  to  the  old  saying:  "It 
is  not  so  much  what  you  say,  as  how  you  say  it." 

Mrs.  Jameson,  the  Shakespearean  commentator,  has 


given  us  a  penetrating  example  of  the  effect  of  inflection: 
''In  her  impersonation  of  the  part  of  Lady  Macbeth,  Mrs. 
Siddons  adopted  successively  three  different  intonations 
in  giving  the  words  'We  fail.'  At  first  a  quick  contemp- 
tuous interrogation — 'We  fail?'  Afterwards,  with  the 
note  of  admiration — 'We  fail/  an  accent  of  indignant 
astonishment  la3dng  the  principal  emphasb  on  the  word 
'we' — 'we  fail. '  Lastly,  she  fixed  on  what  I  am  convinced 
is  the  true  reading — We  fail — ^with  the  simple  period, 
modulating  the  voice  to'  a  deep,  low,  resolute  tone  which 
settles  the  issue  at  once  as  though  she  had  said:  'If  we 
fan,  why  then  we  fail,  and  all  is  over.'  " 

This  most  expressive  element  of  our  speech  is  the  last 
to  be  mastered  in  attaining  to  naturalness  in  speaking  a 
foreign  language,  and  its  correct  use  is  the  main  element  in 
a  natural,  flexible  utterance  of  our  native  tongue.  Without 
varied  inflections  speech  becomes  wooden  and  monotonous. 
There  are  but  two  kinds  of  inflection,  the  rising  and  the 
falling,  yet  these  two  may  be  so  shaded  or  so  combined 
that  they  are  capable  of  producing  as  many  varieties  of 
modulation  as  may  be  illustrated  by  either  one  or  two 
lines,  straight  or  curved,  thus: 

Sharp  rising  y         y 

Long  rising  ^  ^      ^^ 


Long  falling 

Sharp  falling  ^\      *^ 

Sharp  rising  and  falling 

Sharp  falling  and  rising 



These  may  be  varied  indefinitely,  and  serve  merely  to 
illustrate  what  wide  varieties  of  combination  may  be 
effected  by  these  two  simple  inflections  of  the  voice. 

It  is  impossible  to  tabulate  the  various  inflections  which 
serve  to  express  various  shades  of  thought  and  feeling. 
A  few  suggestions  are  offered  here,  together  with  abimdant 
exercises  for  practise,  but  the  only  real  way  to  master  in- 
flection is  to  observe,  experiment,  and  practise. 

For  example,  take  the  conmion  sentence,  ''Oh,  he's  all 
right."  Note  how  a  rising  inflection  may  be  made  to  ex- 
press faint  praise,  or  polite  doubt,  or  uncertainty  of 
opinion.  Then  note  how  the  same  words,  spoken  with  a 
generally  falling  inflection  may  denote  certainty,  or  good- 
natured  approval,  or  enthusiastic  praise,  and  so  on. 

In  general,  then,  we  find  that  a  bending  upward  of  the 
voice  will  suggest  doubt  and  imcertainty,  while  a  decided 
falling  inflection  will  suggest  that  you  are  certain  of 
your  ground. 

Students  dislike  to  be  told  that  their  speeches  are  ''not 
so  bad,"  spoken  with  a  rising  inflection.  To  enunciate 
these  words  with  a  long  falling  inflection  would  indorse 
the  speech  rather  heartily. 

Say  good-bye  to  an  imaginary  person  whom  you  expect 
to  see  again  tomorrow;  then  to  a  dear  friend  you  never 
expect  to  meet  again.    Note  the  difference  in  inflection. 

"I  have  had  a  delightful  time,"  when  spoken  at  the 
termination  of  a  formal  tea  by  a  frivolous  woman  takes 
altogether  different  inflection  than  the  same  words  spoken 
between  lovers  who  have  enjoyed  themselves.  Mimic  the 
two  characters  in  repeating  this  and  observe  the  difference. 


Note  how  light  and  short  the  inflections  are  in  the  follow- 
ing brief  quotation  from  "Anthony  the  Absolute,"  by 

Samuel  Mervin. 

At  Sea— March  esth. 

This  evenmg  I  told  Sir  Robert  What's  His  Name  he  was  a  f ooL 

I  was  qtiite  right  in  this.    He  is. 

Every  evening  since  the  ship  left  Vancouver  he  has  presided 
over  the  round  table  in  the  middle  of  the  smoking-room.  There 
he  sips  his  coffee  and  liqueur,  and  holds  forth  on  every  subject 
known  to  the  mind  of  man.  Each  subject  is  kis  subject.  He 
is  an  elderly  person,  with  a  bad  face  and  a  drooping  left  eyelid. 

They  tell  me  that  he  is  in  the  British  Service — a  judge  some- 
where down  in  Malaysia,  where  they  drink  more  than  is  good  for 

Deliver  the  two  following  selections  with  great  earnest- 
ness, and  note  how  the  inflections  differ  from  the  fore- 
going. Then  reread  these  selections  in  a  light,  superficial 
manner,  noting  that  the  change  of  attitude  is  expressed 
through  a  change  of  inflection. 

When  I  read  a  sublime  fact  in  Plutarch,  or  an  unselfish  deed 
in  a  line  of  poetry,  or  thrill  beneath  some  heroic  legend,  it  is  no 
longer  fairyland — I  have  seen  it  matched. — ^Wendell  Phillips. 

Thought  is  deeper  than  all  speech. 
Feeling  deeper  than  all  thought; 

Souls  to  souls  can  never  teach 
What  unto  themselves  was  taught. 


It  must  be  made  perfectly  clear  that  inflection  deals 
mostly  in  subtle,  delicate  shading  within  single  wards, 
and  is  not  by  any  means  accomplished  by  a  general  rise 
or  fall  in  the  voice  in  speaking  a  sentence.  Yet  certain 
sentences  may  be  effectively  delivered  with  just  such  in- 
flection.   Try  this  sentence  in  several  ways,  making  no 


modulation  until  you  come  to  the  last  two  syllables,  as 

And  yet  I  told  him  dis- 




And  yet  I  told  him  dis- 



Now  try  this  sentence  by  inflecting  the  important 
words  so  as  to  bring  out  various  shades  of  meaning.  The 
first  forms,  illustrated  above,  show  change  of  pitch  wUhin 
a  single  word;  the  forms  you  will  work  out  for  yourself 
should  show  a  nmnber  of  such  inflections  throughout  the 

One  of  the  chief  means  of  seeming  emphasis  is  to  em- 
ploy a  long  falling  inflection  on  the  emphatic  words — 
that  is,  to  let  the  voice  fall  to  a  lower  pitch  on  an  interior 
vowel  sound  in  a  word.  Try  it  on  the  words  "every," 
"eleemosynary,"  and  "destroy." 

Use  long  falling  inflections  on  the  italicized  words  in  the 
following  selection,  noting  their  emphatic  power.  Are 
there  any  other  words  here  that  long  falling  inflections 
would  help  to  make  expressive? 


This,  sir,  is  my  case.  It  is  the  case  not  merely  of  that  htunble 
institution;  it  is  the  case  of  every  college  in  our  land.    It  is  more; 



it  18  the  case  of  every  eleemosynary  institution  throughout  our 
country— of  all  those  great  charities  founded  by  the  piety  of  our 
ancestors  to  alleviate  human  misery  and  scatter  blessings  along 
the  pathway  of  life.  Sir,  you  may  destroy  this  little  institution — 
it  is  weak,  it  is  in  your  hands.  I  know  it  is  one  of  the  lesser  lights 
in  the  literary  horizon  of  our  country.  You  may  put  it  out.  But 
if  you  do  you  must  carry  through  your  work;  you  must  ex- 
tinguish, one  after  another,  all  those  great  lights  of  science  which, 
for  more  than  a  century,  have  thrown  their  radiance  over  our 

It  is,  sir,  as  I  have  said,  a  small  coll^;e,  and  yet — ^there  are 
those  who  love  it  I 

Sir,  I  know  not  how  others  may  feel,  but  as  for  myself  when  I 
see  my  alma  mater  surrounded,  like  Cflesar  in  the  senate  house, 
by  those  who  are  reiterating  stab  after  stab,  1  would  not  for  this 
light  hand  have  her  turn  to  me  and  say.  And  thou,  ioo,  my  son! 

— Daniel  Wbbstbk. 

Be  careful  not  to  over-inflect.  Too  much  modulation 
produces  an  unpleasant  effect  of  artificiality,  like  a  mature 
matron  trying  to  be  kittenish.  It  is  a  short  step  between 
true  expression  and  unintentional  burlesque.  Scrutinize 
your  own  tones.  Take  a  single  expression  like  ''Oh, 
no!"  or  "Oh,  I  see,"  or  "Indeed,"  and  by  patient  self- 
ezamination  see  how  many  shades  of  meaning  may  be  ex- 
pressed by  inflection.  This  sort  of  common-sense  practise 
will  do  you  more  good  than  a  book  of  rules.  Bui  don't 
forget  to  listen  to  your  own  voice, 


1.  In  your  own  words  define  (a)  cadence,  (fi)  modlla- 
tion,  (c)  inflection,  {(I)  emphasis.  \ 

2.  Name  five  ways  of  destroying  monotony  and  gainiil| 
effectiveness  in  speech.  \ 


3.  What  states  of  mind  does  falling  inflection  signify? 
Make  as  full  a  list  as  you  can. 

4.  Do  the  same  for  the  rising  inflection. 

5.  How  does  the  voice  bend  in  expressing  (a)  surprise? 
(b)  shame?  (c)  hate?  (d)  formality?  («)  excitement? 

6.  Reread  some  sentence  several  times  and  by  using 
different  inflections  change  the  meaning  with  each  reading. 

7.  Note  the  inflections  employed  in  sonie  speech  or  con- 
versation. Were  they  the  best  that  could  be  used  to  bring 
out  the  meaning?    Criticise  and  illustrate. 

8.  Render  the  following  passages: 

Has  the  genUeman  done?    Has  he  completely  done? 
And  God  said,  Let  there  be  light:  and  there  was  light. 

9.  Invent  an  indirect  question  and  show  how  it  would 
naturally  be  inflected. 

10.  Does  a  direct  question  always  require  a  rising 
inflection?    Illustrate. 

11.  Illustrate  how  the  complete  ending  of  an  expres- 
sion or  of  a  speech  is  indicated  by  inflection. 

12.  Do  the  same  for  incompleteness  of  idea. 

13.  Illustrate  (a)  trembling,  (b)  hesitation,  and  (c) 
doubt  by  means  of  inflection. 

14.  Show  how  contrast  may  be  expressed. 

15.  Try  the  effects  of  both  rising  and  falling  inflections 
on  the  italicized  words  in  the  following  sentences.  State 
your  preference. 

Gentlemen,  I  am  persuaded,  nay,  I  am  resolved  to  speak. 
It  is  sown  a  natural  body;  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body. 



In  the  following  selections  secure  emphasis  by  means 
of  long  falling  inflections  rather  than  loudness. 

Repeat  these  selections,  attempting  to  put  into  prac- 
tise all  the  technical  principles  that  we  have  thus  far  had: 
emphasizing  important  words,  subordinating  unimport- 
ant words,  variety  of  pitch,  changing  tempo,  pause,  and 
inflection.  If  these  principles  are  applied  you  will  have 
no  trouble  with  monotony. 

Constant  practise  will  give  great  facility  in  the  use  of 
inflection  and  will  render  the  voice  itself  flexible. 


We  charge  him  with  having  broken  his  coronation  oath;  and 
we  are  told  that  he  kept  his  marriage  vow!  We  accuse  him  of 
having  given  up  his  people  to  the  merciless  inflictions  of  the  most 
hot-headed  and  hard-hearted  of  prelates;  and  the  defence  is, 
that  he  took  his  little  son  on  his  knee  and  kissed  him!  We  cen- 
sure him  for  having  violated  the  articles  of  the  Petition  of  Right, 
after  having,  for  good  and  valuable  consideration,  promised  to 
observe  them;  and  we  are  informed  that  he  was  accustomed  to 
hear  prayers  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning !  It  is  to  such  considera- 
tions as  these,  together  with  his  Vandyke  dress,  his  handsome 
face,  and  his  peaked  beard,  that  he  owes,  we  verily  believe,  most 
of  his  popularity  with  the  present  generation. 

— ^T.  B.  Macaulat. 


We  needed  not  that  he  should  put  on  paper  that  he  believed 
in  slavery,  who,  with  treason,  with  murder,  with  cruelty  infernal, 
hovered  around  that  majestic  man  to  destroy  his  hfe.  He  was 
himself  but  the  long  sting  with  which  slavery  struck  at  liberty; 
and  he  carried  the  poison  that  belonged  to  slavery.  As  long  as 
this  nation  lasts,  it  will  never  be  forgotten  that  we  have  one 


martyred  President — ^never!  Never,  while  time  lasts,  while 
heaven  lasts,  while  hell  rocks  and  groans,  will  it  be  forgotten  that 
slavery,  by  its  minions,  slew  him,  and  in  slaying  him  made  mani- 
fest its  whole  nature  and  tendency. 

But  another  thing  for  us  to  remember  is  that  this  blow  was 
aimed  at  the  life  of  the  government  and  of  the  nation.  Lincoln 
was  slain;  America  was  meant.  The  man  was  cast  down;  the 
government  was  smitten  at.  It  was  the  President  who  was 
killed.  It  was  national  life,  breathing  freedom  and  meaning 
beneficence,  that  was  sought.  He,  the  man  of  Illinois,  the  pri- 
vate man,  divested  of  robes  and  the  insignia  of  authority,  repre- 
senting nothing  but  his  personal  self,  might  have  been  hated; 
but  that  would  not  have  called  forth  the  murderer's  blow.  It 
was  because  he  stood  in  the  place  of  government,  representing 
government  and  a  government  that  represented  right  and  liberty, 
that  he  was  singled  out. 

This,  then,  is  a  crime  against  tmiversal  government.  It  is 
not  a  blow  at  the  foundations  of  our  government,  more  than  at 
the  foundations  of  the  English  government,  of  the  French  govern- 
ment, of  every  compact  and  well-organized  govenmient.  It  was 
a  crime  against  mankind.  The  whole  world  will  repudiate  and 
stigmatize  it  as  a  deed  without  a  shade  of  redeeming  light.    .    . 

The  blow,  however,  has  signally  failed.  The  cause  is  not  strick- 
en; it  is  strengthened.  This  nation  has  dissolved, — ^but  in  tears 
only.  It  stands,  four-square,  more  solid,  to-day,  than  any 
pyramid  in  Egypt.  This  people  are  neither  wasted,  nor  daunted, 
nor  disordered.  Men  hate  slavery  and  love  liberty  with  stronger 
hate  and  love  to-day  than  ever  before.  The  Government  is 
not  weakened,  it  is  made  stronger..    .     .     . 

And  now  the  martyr  is  moving  in  triumphal  march,  mightier 
than  when  alive.  The  nation  rises  up  at  every  stage  of  his  com- 
ing. Cities  and  states  are  his  pall-bearers,  and  the  cannon  beats 
the  hours  with  solemn  progression.  Dead — dead — dead — ^he  yet 
speaketh!  Is  Washington  dead?  Is  Hampden  dead?  Is  David 
dead?  Is  any  man  dead  that  ever  was  fit  to  live?  Disenthralled 
of  flesh,  and  risen  to  the  unobstructed  sphere  where  passion 
never  comes,  he  begins  his  illimitable  work.  His  life  now 
is  grafted  upon  the  Infinite,  and  will  be  fruitful  as  no  earthly 
life  can  be.   Pass  on,  thou  that  hast  overcome!   Your  sorrows* 


O  people,  ^re  his  peace!  Your  bells,  and  bands,  and  muffled 
drums  sound  triumph  in  his  ear.  Wail  and  weep  here; 
God  makes  it  echo  joy  and  triumph  there.  Pass  on,  thou 

Pour  years  ago,  O  Illinois,  we  took  from  your  midst  an  untried 
man,  and  from  among  the  people;  we  return  him  to  3rou  a  mighty 
conqueror.  Not  thine  any  more,  but  the  nation's;  not  ours,  but 
the  world's.  Give  him  place,  ye  prairies!  In  the  midst  of  this 
great  Continent  his  dust  shall  rest,  a  sacred  treasure  to  myriads 
who  shall  make  pilgrimage  to  that  shrine  to  kindle  anew  their 
zeal  and  patriotism.  Ye  winds,  that  move  over  the  mighty 
places  of  the  West,  chant  his  requiem!  Ye  people,  behold  a  mar- 
tyr, whose  blood,  as  so  many  inarticulate  words,  pleads  for  fidelity, 
for  law,  for  liberty! — Henry  Ward  Bbechbr. 


The  event  which  we  commemorate  is  all-important,  not  merely 
in  our  own  annals,  but  in  those  of  the  world.  The  sententious 
English  poet  has  declared  that  "the  proper  study  of  mankind 
is  man,"  and  of  all  inquiries  of  a  temporal  nature,  the  history 
of  our  fellow-beings  is  unquestionably  among  the  most  interest- 
ing. But  not  all  the  chapters  of  human  history  are  alike  import- 
ant. The  annals  of  our  race  have  been  filled  up  with  incidents 
which  concern  not,  or  at  least  ought  not  to  concern,  the  great 
company  of  mankind.  History,  as  it  has  often  been  written, 
is  the  genealogy  of  princes,  the  field-book  of  conquerors;  and  the 
f orttmes  of  our  fellow-men  have  been  treated  only  so  far  as  they 
have  been  affected  by  the  influence  of  the  great  masters  and  des- 
troyers of  our  race.  Such  history  is,  I  will  not  say  a  worthless 
study,  for  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  know  the  dark  side  as  well  as 
the  bright  side  of  our  condition.  But  it  is  a  melancholy  study 
which  fills  the  bosom  of  the  philanthropist  and  the  friend  of 
liberty  with  sorrow. 

But  the  history  of  liberty — ^the  history  of  men  struggling  to  be 
free — the  history  of  men  who  have  acquired  and  are  exercising 
their  freedom — ^the  history  of  those  great  movements  in  the  world, 
by  which  liberty  has  been  established  and  perpetuated,  forms  a 
subject  which  we  cannot  contemplate  too  closely.    This  is  the 


real  history  of  man,  of  the  human  family,  of  rational  immortal 
beings.    •    • 

The  trial  of  adversity  was  theirs;  the  trial  of  prosperity  is 
ours.  Let  us  meet  it  as  men  who  know  their  duty  and  prize  their 
blessings.  Our  position  is  the  most  enviable,  the  most  responsi- 
ble, which  men  can  fill.  If  this  generation  does  its  duty,  the  cause 
of  constitutional  freedom  is  safe.  If  we  fail — if  we  fail — not  only 
do  we  defraud  our  children  of  the  inheritance  which  we  received 
from  our  fathers,  but  we  blast  the  hopes  of  the  friends  of  liberty 
throughout  our  continent,  throughout  Europe,  throughout  the 
world,  to  the  end  of  time. 

History  is  not  without  her  eicamples  of  hard-fought  fields,  where 
the  banner  of  liberty  has  floated  triumphantly  on  the  wildest 
storm  of  battle.  She  is  without  her  examples  of  a  people  by  whom 
the  dear-bought  treasure  has  been  wisdly  employed  and  safely 
handed  down.  The  eyes  of  the  world  are  turned  for  that  ex- 
ample to  us.    .    .    . 

Let  us,  then,  as  we  assemble  on  the  birthday  of  the  nation,  as 
we  gather  upon  the  green  turf,  once  wet  with  precious  blood — ^let 
us  devote  ourselves  to  the  sacred  cause  of  constitutional  liberty! 
Let  us  abjure  the  interests  and  passions  which  divide  the  great 
family  of  American  freemen!  Let  the  rage  of  party  spirit  sleep 
to-day!  Let  us  resolve  that  our  children  shall  have  cause  to 
bless  the  memory  of  their  fathers,  as  we  have  cause  to  bless  the 
memory  of  ours! — ^Edwakd  Everett. 



Attention  is  the  microscope  of  the  mental  eye.  Its  power  may 
be  high  or  low;  its  field  of  view  narrow  or  broad.  When  high 
power  is  used  attention  is  confined  within  very  circumscribed 
limits,  but  its  action  is  exceedingly  intense  and  absorbing.  It 
sees  but  few  things,  but  these  few  are  observed  "through  and 
through"  .  .  .  Mental  energy  and  activity,  whether  of 
perception  or  of  thought,  thus  concentrated,  act  like  the  sun's 
rays  concentrated  by  the  burning  glass.  The  object  is  illumined, 
heated,  set  on  fire.  Impressions  are  so  deep  that  they  can  never 
be  effaced.  Attention  of  this  sort  is  the  prime  condition  of  the 
most  productive  mental  labor. 

— Daniel  Putnam,  Psychology, 

Try  to  nib  the  top  of  your  head  forward  and  backward 
at  the  same  time  that  you  are  patting  your  chest.  Unless 
your  powers  of  coordination  are  well  developed  you  will 
find  it  confusing,  if  not  impossible.  The  brain  needs 
special  training  before  it  can  do  two  or  more  things 
efficiently  at  the  same  instant.  It  may  seem  like  split- 
ting a  hair  between  its  north  and  northwest  comer,  but 
some  psychologists  argue  that  no  brain  can  think  two 
distinct  thoughts,  absolutely  simultaneoiisly — ^that  what 
seems  to  be  simultaneous  is  really  very  rapid  rotation 
from  the  first  thought  to  the  second  and  back  again,  just 
as  in  the  above-cited  experiment  the  attention  must  shift 
from  one  hand  to  the  other  until  one  or  the  other  move- 
ment becomes  partly  or  wholly  automatic. 

Whatever  is  the  psychological  truth  of  this  contention 


it  is  undeniable  that  the  mind  measurably  loses  grip  on 
one  idea  the  moment  the  attention  is  projected  decidedly 
ahead  to  a  second  or  a  third  idea. 

A  fault  in  public  speakers  that  is  as  pernicious  as  it  is 
common  is  that  they  try  to  think  of  the  succeeding 
sentence  while  still  uttering  the  former,  and  in  this  way 
their  concentration  trails  ofF;  in  consequence,  they  start 
their  sentences  strongly  and  end  them  weakly.  In  a  well- 
prepared  written  speech  the  emphatic  word  usually  comes 
at  one  end  of  the  sentence.  But  an  emphatic  word  needs 
emphatic  expression,  and  this  is  precisely  what  it  does  not 
get  when  concentration  flags  by  leaping  too  soon  to  that 
which  is  next  to  be  uttered.  Concentrate  all  yoiu:  mental 
energies  on  the  present  sentence.  Remember  that  the 
mind  of  your  audience  follows  yours  very  closely,  and  if 
you  withdraw  yoiu:  attention  from  what  you  are  saying 
to  what  you  are  going  to  say,  yoiu:  audience  will  also  with- 
draw theirs.  They  may  not  do  so  consdoiisly  and  de- 
liberately, but  they  will  siurely  cease  to  give  importance 
to  the  things  that  you  yourself  slight.  It  is  fatal  to  either 
the  actor  or  the  speaker  to  cross  his  bridges  too  soon. 

Of  course,  all  this  is  not  to  say  that  in  the  natural  pauses 
of  yoiu:  speech  you  are  not  to  take  swift  forward  surveys — 
they  are  as  important  as  the  forward  look  in  driving  a 
motor  car;  the  caution  is  of  quite  another  sort:  while 
speaking  one  sentence  do  not  think  of  the  sentence  to  follow. 
Let  it  come  from  its  proper  source — ^within  yourself. 
You  cannot  deliver  a  broadside  without  concentrated 
force — ^that  is  what  produces  the  explosion.  In  preparation 
you  store  and  concentrate  thought  and  feeling;   in  the 


pauses  during  delivery  you  swiftly  look  ahead  and  gather 
yourself  for  eflFective  attack;  during  the  moments  of 
actual  speech,  SPEAK— DON'T  ANTICIPA  TE.  Divide 
your  attention  and  you  divide  your  power. 

This  matter  of  the  effect  of  the  inner  man  upon  the 
outer  needs  a  further  word  here,  particularly  as  touching 

"What  do  you  read,  my  lord?"  Hamlet  replied, 
"Words.  Words.  Words."  That  is  a  world-old  trouble. 
The  mechanical  calling  of  words  is  not  expression,  by  a 
long  stretch.  Did  you  ever  notice  how  hollow  a  memorized 
speech  usually  sounds?  You  have  listened  to  the  ranting, 
mechanical  cadence  of  inefficient  actors,  lawyers  and 
preachers.  Their  trouble  is  a  mental  one — they  are  not 
concentratedly  thinking  thoughts  that  cause  words  to 
issue  with  sincerity  and  conviction,  but  are  merely  enun- 
ciating word-soimds  mechanically.  Painful  experience 
alike  to  audience  and  to  speaker!  A  parrot  is  equally  elo- 
quent. Again  let  Shakespeare  instruct  us,  this  time  in 
the  insincere  prayer  of  the  King,  Hamlet's  uncle.  He 
laments  thus  pointedly: 

My  words  fly  up,  my  thoughts  remain  below: 
Words  without  thoughts  never  to  heaven  go. 

The  truth  is,  that  as  a  speaker  your  words  must  be  bom 
again  every  time  they  are  spoken,  then  they  will  not  suffer 
in  their  utterance,  even  though  perforce  committed  to 
memory  and  repeated,  like  Dr.  Russell  Conwell's  lecture, 
"Acres  of  Diamonds,"  five  thousand  times.  Such  speeches 
lose  nothing  by  repetition  for  the  perfectly  patent  reason 


that  they  axise  from  concentrated  thought  and  feeling  and 
not  a  mere  necessity  for  saying  something — which  usually 
means  anything,  and  that,  in  turn,  is  tantamount  to 
nothing.  If  the  thought  beneath  your  words  is  warm, 
fresh,  q)ontaneous,  a  part  of  your  sdfj  your  utterance  will 
have  breath  and  life.  Words  are  only  a  result.  Do  not 
try  to  get  the  result  without  stimulating  the  cause. 

Do  you  ask  how  to  concentrate?  Think  of  the  word 
itself,  and  of  its  philological  brother,  concentric.  Think  of 
how  a  lens  gathers  and  concenters  the  rays  of  light  within 
a  given  drde.  It  centers  them  by  a  process  of  withdrawal. 
It  may  seem  like  a  harsh  saying,  but  the  man  who  cannot 
concentrate  is  either  weak  of  will,  a  nervous  wreck,  or  has 
never  learned  what  will-power  is  good  for. 

You  must  concentrate  by  resolutely  withdrawing  your 
attention  from  everything  else.  If  you  concentrate  your 
thought  on  a  pain  which  may  be  afflicting  you,  that  pain 
will  grow  more  intense.  " Count  your  blessings"  and  they 
will  multiply.  Center  your  thought  on  your  strokes  and 
yoiu:  tennis  play  will  gradually  improve.  To  concentrate 
is  simply  to  attend  to  one  thing,  and  attend  to  nothing 
else.  If  you  find  that  you  cannot  do  that,  there  is  some- 
thing wrong — attend  to  that  first.  Remove  the  cause  and 
the  symptom  will  disappear.  Read  the  chapter  on  ''Will 
Power."  Cultivate  your  will  by  willing  and  then  doings 
at  all  costs.    Concentrate — and  you  will  win. 


I.  Select  from  any  source  several  sentences  suitable  for 
speaking  aloud;   deliver  them  first  in  the  manner  con- 


demned  in  this  chapter,  and  second  with  due  regard  for 
emphasis  toward  the  close  of  each  sentence. 

2.  Put  into  about  one  hundred  words  yoiu:  impression 
of  the  effect  produced. 

3.  Tell  of  any  peculiar  methods  you  may  have  observed 
or  heard  of  by  which  speakers  have  sought  to  aid  their 
powers  of  concentration,  such  as  looking  fixedly  at  a  blank 
spot  in  the  ceiling,  or  twisting  a  watch  charm. 

4.  What  effect  do  such  habits  have  on  the  audience? 

5.  What  relation  does  pause  bear  to  concentration? 

6.  Tell  why  concentration  natiurally  helps  a  speaker 
to  change  pitch,  tempo,  and  emphasis. 

7.  Read  the  following  selection  through  to  get  its 
meaning  and  spirit  dearly  in  yoiu:  mind.  Then  read  it 
aloud,  concentrating  solely  on  the  thought  that  you  are 
expressing — do  not  trouble  about  the  sentence  or  thought 
that  is  coming.  Half  the  troubles  of  mankind  arise  from 
anticipating  trials  that  never  occur.  Avoid  this  in  speak- 
ing. Make  the  end  of  your  sentences  just  as  strong  as  the 
beginning.    CONCENTRATE. 


The  last  of  the  savage  instincts  is  war.  The  cave  man's  dub 
made  law  and  procured  food.  Might  decreed  right.  Warriors 
were  saviours. 

In  Nazareth  a  carpenter  laid  down  the  saw  and  preadied  the 
brotherhood  of  man.  Twdve  centuries  afterwards  his  followers 
marched  to  the  Hdy  Land  to  destroy  all  who  differed  with  them 
in  the  worship  of  the  God  of  Love.  Triumphantly  they  wrote 
"In  Solomon's  Pordi  and  in  his  temple  our  men  rode  in  the  bkxxl 
of  the  tSaraoens  up  to  the  knees  of  their  horses." 

History  is  an  appalling  tale  of  war.   In  the  seventeenth  century 


Germany,  Fiance,  Sweden,  and  Spain  warred  for  thirty  years. 
At  Magdebui^  30,000  out  of  36,000  were  IdUed  regardless  of  sex 
or  age.  In  Germany  schools  were  doeed  for  a  third  of  a  century, 
homes  burned,  women  outraged,  towns  demolished,  and  the  un- 
tilled  land  became  a  wilderness. 

Two-thirds  of  Germany's  property  was  destroyed  and 
18,000,000  of  her  citizens  were  killed,  because  men  quarrelled  about 
the  way  to  glorify  "  The  Prince  of  Peace."  Marching  through  rain 
and  snow,  sleeping  on  the  ground,  eating  stale  food  or  starving, 
contracting  diseases  and  facing  guns  that  fire  six  hundred  times 
a  minute,  for  fifty  cents  a  day — ^this  is  the  soldier's  life. 

At  the  window  sits  the  widowed  mother  crying.  Little  children 
with  tearful  faces  pressed  against  the  pane  watch  and  wait. 
Their  means  of  livdihood,  their  home,  their  happiness  is  gone. 
Fatherless  children,  broken-hearted  women,  sick,  disabled  and 
dead  men — ^this  is  the  wage  of  war. 

We  spend  more  money  preparing  men  to  kill  each  other  than 
we  do  in  t^tfioliing  them  to  live.  We  spend  more  money  building 
one  battleship  than  in  the  annual  maintenance  of  all  our  state 
tmiversities.  The  financial  loss  resultiog  from  destroying  one 
another's  homes  in  the  dvil  war  would  have  built  15,000,000 
houses,  each  costing  $2,000.  We  pray  for  love  but  prepare  for 
hate.    We  preach  peace  but  equip  for  war. 

Were  half  the  power  that  fills  the  world  with  terror. 
Were  half  the  wealth  bestowed  on  camp  and  court 
Given  to  redeem  this  world  from  error. 
There  would  be  no  need  of  arsenal  and  fort. 

War  only  defers  a  question.  No  issue  will  ever  really  be  settled 
until  it  is  settled  rightly.  Like  rival  "gun  gangs"  in  a  back 
alley,  the  nations  of  the  world,  through  the  bloody  ages,  have 
fought  over  their  differences.  Denver  cannot  fight  Chicago  and 
Iowa  cannot  fight  Ohio.  Why  should  Germany  be  permitted  to 
fight  Prance,  or  Bulgaria  fight  Turkey? 

When  mankind  rises  above  creeds,  colors  and  countries,  when 
we  are  citizens,  not  of  a  nation,  but  of  the  world,  the  armies  and 
navies  of  the  earth  will  constitute  an  international  police  force 
to  perserve  the  peace  and  the  dove  will  take  the  eagle's  place. 


Our  differeaoes  will  be  settled  by  an  inteniatioiial  court  with  the 
power  to  enforce  its  mandates.  In  times  of  peace  prepare  for 
peace.  The  wages  of  war  are  the  wages  of  sin,  and  the  "wages 
of  sin  is  death." 

— Ediiarial  by  2>.  C,  Leslie's  Weekly;  used  by  permission. 



However,  'tis  expedient  to  be  wary: 
Indifference,  certes,  don't  produce  distress; 
And  rash  enthusiasm  in  good  society 
Were  nothing  but  a  moral  inebriety. 

— Bykon,  Don  Juan. 

You  have  attended  plays  that  seemed  fair,  yet  they  did 
not  move  you,  grip  you.  In  theatrical  parlance,  they 
failed  to  ''get  over,"  which  means  that  their  message  did 
not  get  over  the  foot-lights  to  the  audience.  There  was 
no  punch,  no  jab  to  them — ^they  had  no  force. 

Of  course,  all  this  spells  disaster,  in  big  letters,  not  only 
in  a  stage  production  but  in  any  platform  effort.  Every 
such  presentation  exists  solely  for  the  audience,  and  if  it 
fails  to  hit  them — and  the  expression  is  a  good  one — ^it  has 
no  excuse  for  living;  nor  will  it  live  long. 

Wh(U  is  Force? 

Some  of  oiu:  most  obvious  words  open  up  secret  meanings 
under  scrutiny,  and  this  is  one  of  them. 

To  b^in  with,  we  must  recognize  the  distinction 
between  inner  and  outer  force.  The  one  is  cause,  the  other 
effect.  The  one  is  spiritual,  the  other  ph3rsical.  In  this 
important  particular,  animate  force  differs  from  inanimate 
force — ^the  power  of  man,  coming  from  within  and  express- 
ing itself  outwardly,  is  of  another  sort  from  the  force  of 


Shimose  powder,  which  awaits  some  influence  from  with- 
out to  explode  it.  However  susceptive  to  outside  stimulii 
the  true  source  of  power  in  man  lies  within  himself.  This 
may  seem  like  "mere  psychology/'  but  it  has  an  intensely 
practical  bearing  on  public  q)eakingy  as  will  appear. 

Not  only  must  we  discern  the  difference  between  human 
force  and  mere  physical  force,  but  we  must  not  confuse  its 
real  essence  with  some  of  the  things  that  may — and  may 
not — accompany  it.  For  example,  loudness  is  not  force, 
though  force  at  times  may  be  attended  by  noise.  Mere 
roaring  never  made  a  good  speech,  yet  there  are  mo- 
ments— ^moments,  mind  you,  not  minutes — ^when  big 
voice  power  may  be  used  with  tremendous  effect. 

Nor  is  violent  motion  force — ^yet  force  may  result  in 
violent  motion.    Hamlet  counseled  the  players: 

Nor  do  not  saw  the  air  too  much  with  your  hand,  thus;  but  use 
all  gently;  for  in  the  very  torrent,  tempest,  and  (as  I  may  say) 
whirlwind  of  your  passion,  you  must  acquire  and  beget  a  tem- 
perance, that  may  give  it  smoothness.  Oh,  it  offends  me  to 
the  soul,  to  hear  a  robustious  periwig-pated  fellow  tear  a  passion 
to  tatters,  to  very  rags,  to  split  the  ears  of  the  groundlings^; 
who,  for  the  most  part,  are  capable  of  nothing  but  inexplicable 
dumb  show,  and  noise.  I  would  have  such  a  fellow  whipped  for 
o'er-doing  Termagant;  it  out-herods  Herod.    Pray  you  avoid  it. 

Be  not  too  tame,  neither,  but  let  your  discretion  be  your  tutor: 
suit  the  action  to  the  word,  the  word  to  the  action;  with  this 
special  observance,  that  you  o'erstep  not  the  modesty  of  nature; 
for  anything  so  overdone  is  from  the  purpose  of  playing,  whose 
end,  both  at  the  first,  and  now,  was,  and  is,  to  hold,  as  'twere, 
the  mirror  up  to  Nature,  to  show  Virtue  her  own  feature.  Scorn 
her  own  image,  and  the  very  age  and  body  of  the  time  his  form 
and  pressure.    Now,  this  overdone,  or  come  tardy  off,  though 

>  ThoM  who  sat  in  the  pit,  or  parquet. 

FOKCE  89 

it  make  the  tmskillftil  laugh,  caonot  but  make  the  judidous 
grieve;  the  censure  of  the  which  one  must,  in  your  aUowanoe, 
o'erweigh  a  whole  theater  of  others.  Oh,  there  be  players  that 
I  have  seen  play — and  heard  others  praise,  and  that  highly — not 
to  speak  it  profanely,  that,  neither  having  the  accent  of  Chris- 
tians, nor  the  gait  of  Christian,  pagan,  or  man,  have  so  strutted 
and  bellowed  tb&t  I  have  thought  some  of  Nature's  journeymen 
had  made  men,  and  not  made  them  weU,  they  imitated  humanity 
so  abominably.  ^ 

Force  is  both  a  cause  and  an  effect.  Inner  force,  which 
must  precede  outer  force,  is  a  combination  of  four  de- 
ments, acting  progressively.  First  of  all,  farce  arises  from 
cawoictUm.  You  must  be  convinced  of  the  truth,  or  the 
importance,  or  the  meaning,  of  what  you  are  about  to 
say  before  you  can  give  it  forceful  delivery.  It  must  lay 
strong  hold  upon  your  convictions  before  it  can  grip  your 
audience.    Conviction  convinces. 

The  Sakifday  Evening  Post  in  an  article  on  "England's 
T.  R." — ^Winston  Spencer  Churchill — attributed  much 
of  Churchill's  and  Roosevelt's  public  platform  success  to 
their  forceful  delivery.  No  matter  what  is  in  hand,  these 
men  make  themselves  believe  for  the  time  being  that  that 
one  thing  is  the  most  important  on  earth.  Hence  they 
speak  to  their  audiences  in  a  Do-this-or-you-jP£J{/5i7 

That  kind|of  speaking  wins,  and  it  is  that  virile,  strenu- 
ous, aggressivejj[attitude  which  both  distinguishes  and 
maintains  the  platform  careers  of  our  greatest  leaders. 

But  let  us  look  a  little  closer  at  the  origins  of  inner 
force.    How  does  conviction  affect  the  man  who  feels  it? 

1  HtmUi,  Act  III,  SceiM  2. 


We  have  answered  the  inquiry  in  the  very  question  itself 
— bt  feds  it:  CatwicHon  produces  emotional  tension.  Study 
the  pictures  of  Theodore  Roosevelt  and  of  Billy  Sunday  in 
action — acHon  is  the  word.  Note  the  tension  of  their  jaw 
muscles,  the  taut  lines  of  sinews  in  their  entire  bodies 
when  reaching  a  climax  of  force.  Moral  and  physical  force 
are  alike  in  being  both  preceded  and  accompanied  by 
ia-tenS'ity — tension — tightness  of  the  cords  of  power. 

It  is  this  tautness  of  the  bow-string,  this  knotting  of  the 
muscles,  this  contraction  before  the  spring,  that  makes 
an  audience  feel — almost  see — the  reserve  power  in  a 
speaker.  In  some  really  wonderful  way  it  b  more  what  a 
speaker  does  not  say  and  do  that  reveals  the  d3mamo 
within.  Anything  may  come  from  such  stored-up  force 
once  it  is  let  loose;  and  that  keeps  an  audience  alert,  hang- 
ing on  the  lips  of  a  speaker  for  his  next  word.  After  all, 
it  is  all  a  question  of  manhood,  for  a  stuffed  doll  has  neither 
convictions  nor  emotional  tension.  If  you  are  upholstered 
with  sawdust,  keep  off  the  platform,  for  your  own  speech 
will  puncture  you. 

Growing  out  of  this  conviction-tension  comes  resolve  to 
make  the  audience  share  that  conmction4ension.  Purpose  is 
the  backbone  of  force;  without  it  speech  b  flabby — ^it 
may  glitter,  but  it  b  the  iridescence  of  the  spineless  jelly- 
fish. You  must  hold  fast  to  your  resolve  if  you  would 
hold  fast  to  your  audience. 

Finally,  all  thb  conviction-tension-purpose  b  lifeless 
and  useless  unless  it  results  in  propulsion.  You  remember 
how  Young  in  hb  wonderful  ''Night  Thoughts"  delineates 
the  man  who 

FORCE  91 

Pushes  his  prudent  purpose  to  resolve, 
Resolves,  and  re-resolves,  and  dies  the  same. 

Let  not  your  force  ''die  a-boming/' — ^bring  it  to  full  life 
in  its  conviction,  emotional  tension,  resolve,  and  propul- 
sive power. 

Can  Farce  be  Acquired? 

Yes,  if  the  acquirer  has  any  such  capacities  as  we  have 
just  outlined.  How  to  acquire  this  vital  factor  is  sug- 
gested in  its  very  analysis:  Live  with  your  subject  until 
you  are  convinced  of  its  importance. 

If  your  message  does  not  of  itself  arouse  you  to  tension, 
PULL  yourself  together.  When  a  man  faces  the  necessity 
of  leaping  across  a  crevasse  he  does  not  wait  for  inspiration, 
he  wiUs  his  muscles  into  tensity  for  the  spring — ^it  is  not 
without  purpose  that  our  English  language  uses  the  same 
word  to  depict  a  mighty  though  delicate  steel  contrivance 
and  a  quick  leap  through  the  air.  Then  resolve — and  let 
it  all  end  in  actual  punch. 

This  truth  is  worth  reiteration:  The  man  within  is  the 
final  factor.  He  must  supply  the  fuel.  The  audience,  or 
even  the  man  himself,  may  add  the  match — ^it  matters 
little  which,  only  so  that  there  be  fire.  However  skillfully 
]rour  engine  is  constructed,  however  well  it  works,  you  will 
have  no  force  if  the  fire  has  gone  out  tmder  the  boiler. 
It  matters  little  how  well  you  have  mastered  poise,  pause, 
modulation,  and  tempo,  if  your  speech  lacks  fire  it  is  dead. 
Neither  a  dead  engine  nor  a  dead  speech  will  move  any- 

Four  factors  of  force  are  measurably  within  your  control. 



and  in  that  far  may  be  acquired:  ideas,  feeling  ab<nU  the 
subject,  wording,  and  delivery.  Each  of  these  is  more  or 
less  fully  discussed  in  this  volimie»  excq>t  wording,  which 
really  requires  a  fuller  rhetorical  study  than  can  here  be 
ventured.  It  is,  however,  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
you  should  be  aware  of  precisely  how  wording  bears  upon 
force  in  a  sentence.  Study  ''The  Working  Principles  of 
Rhetoric/'  by  John  Franklin  Genung,  or  the  rhetorical 
treatises  of  Adams  Sherman  Hill,  of  Charles  Sears  Baldwin, 
or  any  others  whose  names  may  easQy  be  learned  from 
any  teacher. 

Here  are  a  few  suggestions  on  the  use  of  words  to 
attain  force: 


PLAIN  words  are  more  forceful  than  words  less 

commonly  ustdr-juggle  has  more  vigor  than 

SHORT  words  are  stronger  than  long  words — 

end  has  more  directness  than  terminate, 
SAXON  words  are  usually  more  forceful  than 

Latinistic  words — ^for  force,  use  wars  ttgainsi 

rather  than  militate  against. 

of  Words  "^igp^Qlplc  words  are  stronger  than  general 
words — pressman  is  more  definite  than  printer, 
CONNOTATIVE  words,  those  that  suggest 
more  than  they  say,  have  more  power  than 
ordinary  words — "  She  let  herself  be  married  " 
expresses  more  than  ''She  married,^^ 
EPITHETS,  figuratively  descriptive  words,  arc 
more  efifective  than  direct  names — "Go  tell 



of  Wards 



that  old  fox,''  has  more  "  punch  "  than  "  Go  tell 
that  sly  fellow:' 
ONOMATOPOETIC  words,  words  that  convey 
the  sense  by  the  sound,  are  more  powerful 
than  other  words — crash  is  more  effective  than 

Cut  out  modifiers. 

Cut  out  connectives. 

B^gin  with  words  that  demand  attention. 

''End  with  words  that  deserve  distinction/' 
says  Prof.  Barrett  Wendell. 

Set  strong  ideas  over  against  weaker  ones,  so 
as  to  gain  strength  by  the  contrast. 

Avoid  elaborate  sentence  structure — short 
sentences  are  stronger  than  long  ones. 

Cut  out  every  useless  word,  so  as  to  give 
prominence  to  the  really  important  ones. 

Let  each  sentence  be  a  condensed  battering 
ram,  swinging  to  its  final  blow  on  the  attention. 

A  familiar,  homely  idiom,  if  not  worn  by  much 
use,  is  more  effective  than  a  highly  formal, 
scholarly  expression. 

Consider  well  the  relative  value  of  different 
positions  in  the  sentence  so  that  you  may  give 
the  prominent  place  to  ideas  you  wish  to  empha- 

''But/'  says  someone,  ''is  it  not  more  honest  to  depend 
on  the  inherent  interest  in  a  subject,  its  native  truth,  dear- 


ness  and  sincerity  of  presentation,  and  beauty  of  utter- 
ance, to  win  your  audience?  Why  not  charm  men  instead 
of  capturing  them  by  assault?" 

Why  Use  Force? 

There  is  much  truth  in  such  an  appeal,  but  not  all  the 
truth.  Clearness,  persuasion,  beauty,  simple  statement 
of  truth,  are  all  essential — ^indeed,  they  are  all  definite 
parts  of  a  forceful  presentment  of  a  subject,  without 
being  the  only  parts.  Strong  meat  may  not  be  as  attrac- 
tive as  ices,  but  all  depends  on  the  appetite  and  the  stage 
of  the  meal. 

You  can  not  deliver  an  aggressive  message  with  caress- 
ing little  strokes.  No!  Jab  it  in  with  hard,  swift  solar 
plexus  punches.  You  cannot  strike  fire  from  flint  or  from 
an  audience  with  love  taps.  Say  to  a  crowded  theatre  in 
a  lackadaisical  manner:  ''It  seems  to  me  that  the  house 
is  on  fire,"  and  your  announcement  may  be  greeted 
mth  a  laugh.  If  you  flash  out  the  words:  ''The  house's 
on  fire!"  they  will  crush  one  another  in  getting  to  the 

The  spirit  and  the  language  of  force  are  definite  with  con- 
viction. No  immortal  speech  in  literature  contains  such 
expressions  as  "it  seems  to  me,"  "I  should  judge,"  "in 
my  opinion,"  "I  suppose,"  "perhaps  it  is  true."  The 
speeches  that  will  live  have  been  delivered  by  men  ablaze 
mth  the  courage  of  their  convictions,  who  uttered  their 
words  as  eternal  truth.  Of  Jesus  it  was  said  that  "the 
common  people  heard  Him  gladly."    Why?    "He  taught 

FORCE  95 

them  as  one  having  A  VTHORITY:'  An  audience  will 
never  be  moved  by  what  "seems"  to  you  to  be  truth  or 
what  in  your  "  humble  opinion  "  may  be  so.  If  you  honest- 
ly can,  assert  convictions  as  your  conclusions.  Be  sure  you 
are  right  before  you  speak  your  speech,  then  utter  your 
thoughts  as  though  they  were  a  Gibraltar  of  unimpeacha- 
ble fmUh.  Deliver  them  with  the  iron  hand  and  confi- 
dence of  a  Cromwell.  Assert  them  with  the  fire  of  authority. 
Pronounce  them  as  an  ulHrnatum.  If  you  cannot  speak 
with  conviction,  be  silent. 

What  force  did  that  young  minister  have  who,  fearing 
to  be  too  dogmatic,  thus  exhorted  his  hearers:  "My 
friends — ^as  I  assume  that  you  are — ^it  appears  to  be  my 
duty  to  tell  you  that  if  you  do  not  repent,  so  to  speak, 
forsake  your  sins,  as  it  were,  and  turn  to  righteousness, 
if  I  may  so  express  it,  you  will  be  lost,  in  a  measure"? 

Effective  speech  must  reflect  the  era.  This  is  not  a 
rose  water  age,  and  a  tepid,  half-hearted  speech  will  not 
win.  This  is  the  century  of  trip  hammers,  of  overland 
expresses  that  dash  under  cities  and  through  moimtain 
tunnels,  and  you  must  instill  this  spirit  into  your  speech 
if  you  would  move  a  popular  audience.  From  a  front 
seat  listen  to  a  first-dass  company  present  a  modem 
Broadway  drama — ^not  a  comedy,  but  a  gripping,  thrilling 
drama.  Do  not  become  absorbed  in  the  story;  reserve 
all  your  attention  for  the  technique  and  the  force  of  the 
acting.  There  is  a  kick  and  a  crash  as  well  as  an  infinitely 
subtle  intensity  in  the  big,  climax-speeches  that  suggest 
this  lesson:  the  same  well-calculated,  restrained,  deli- 
cately shaded  force  would  simply  rivet  your  ideas  in  the 


minds  of  your  audience.  An  air-gun  will  rattle  bird-shot 
against  a  window  pane — ^it  takes  a  rifle  to  wing  a  bullet 
through  plate  glass  and  the  oaken  walls  beyond. 

When  to  Use  Force 

An  audience  b  unlike  the  kingdom  of  heaven — ^the  vio- 
lent do  not  always  take  it  by  force.  There  are  times  when 
beauty  and  serenity  should  be  the  only  bells  in  your  chime. 
Force  is  only  one  of  the  great  extremes  of  contrast — 
use  neither  it  nor  quiet  utterance  to  the  exclusion  of  other 
tones:  be  various,  and  in  variety  find  even  greater  force 
than  you  could  attain  by  attempting  its  constant  use. 
If  you  are  reading  an  essay  on  the  beauties  of  the  dawn, 
talking  about  the  dainty  bloom  of  a  honey-suckle,  or 
explaining  the  mechanism  of  a  gas  engine,  a  vigorous 
style  of  delivery  is  entirely  out  of  place.  But  when  you 
are  appealing  to  wills  and  consciences  for  immediate 
action,  forceful  delivery  wins.  In  such  cases,  consider 
the  minds  of  your  audience  as  so  many  safes  that  have 
been  locked  and  the  keys  lost.  Do  not  try  to  figure  out 
the  combinations.  Poiu:  a  little  nitro  gylcerine  into  the 
cracks  and  light  the  fuse.  As  these  Unes  are  being  written 
a  contractor  down  the  street  is  clearing  away  the  rocks 
with  dynamite  to  lay  the  foimdations  for  a  great  building. 
When  you  want  to  get  action,  do  not  fear  to  use  dynamite. 

The  final  argument  for  the  effectiveness  of  force  in 
public  speech  is  the  fact  that  everything  must  be  enlarged 
for  the  purposes  of  the  platform — ^that  is  why  so  few 
q>eeches  read  well  in  the  rq>orts  on  the  morning  after: 

FOKCE  97 

statements  appear  crude  and  exaggerated  because  they 
are  unaccompanied  by  the  forceful  delivery  of  a  glowing 
speaker  before  an  audience  heated  to  attentive  enthusi- 
asm. So  in  prq>aring  your  speech  you  must  not  err  on 
the  side  of  mild  statement — ^your  audience  will  inevitably 
tone  down  your  words  in  the  cold  grey  of  afterthought. 
When  Phidias  was  criticised  for  the  rough,  bold  outlines 
of  a  figure  he  had  submitted  in  competition,  he  smiled 
and  asked  that  his  statue  and  the  one  wrought  by  his 
rival  should  be  set  upon  the  column  for  which  the  sculp- 
ture was  destined.  When  this  was  done  all  the  exaggera- 
tions and  crudities,  toned  by  distances,  melted  into  ex- 
quisite grace  of  line  and  form.  Each  speech  must  be  a 
special  study  in  suitability  and  proportion. 

Omit  the  thunder  of  delivery,  if  you  will,  but  like 
Wendell  Phillips  puf  silent  lightning"  into  your  speech. 
Make  yoiu:  thoughts  breathe  and  your  words  bum. 
Birrell  said:  '' Emerson  writes  like  an  electrical  cat 
emitting  sparks  and  shocks  in  every  sentence."  Go  thou 
and  speak  likewise.  Get  the  ''big  stick"  into  your  de- 
livery— ^be  f orcefid. 


1.  Illustrate,  by  repeating  a  sentence  from  memory, 
what  is  meant  by  employing  force  in  speaking. 

2.  Which  in  your  opinion  is  the  most  important  of  the 
technical  principles  of  speaking  that  you  have  studied  so 
far?    Why? 

3.  What  is  the  e£Fect  of  too  much  force  in  a  speech? 
Too  litde? 


4.  Note  some  uninteresting  conversation  or  ii 
q>eech,  and  tell  why  it  failed. 

5.  Suggest  how  it  might  be  improved. 

6.  Why  do  speeches  have  to  be  spoken  with  more 
force  than  do  conversations? 

7.  Read  aloud  the  selection  on  page  84,  using  the 
technical  principles  outlined  in  chapters  m  to  VHI,  but 
neglect  to  put  any  force  behind  the  interpretation.  What 
is  the  result? 

8.  Reread  several  times,  doing  your  best  to  achieve 

9.  Which  parts  of  the  selection  on  page  84  require 
the  most  force? 

10.  Write  a  five-minute  q)eech  not  only  discussing 
the  errors  of  those  who  exaggerate  and  those  who  minimize 
the  use  of  force,  but  by  imitation  show  their  weaknesses. 
Do  not  burlesque,  but  closely  imitate. 

11.  Give  a  list  of  ten  themes  for  public  addresses, 
saying  which  seem  most  likely  to  require  the  frequent 
use  of  force  in  delivery. 

12.  In  your  own  opinion,  do  speakers  usually  err  from 
the  use  of  too  much  or  too  little  force? 

13.  Define  (a)  bombast;  (b)  bathos;  (c)  sentimen- 
tality; (d)  squeamish. 

14.  Say  how  the  forgoing  words  describe  weaknesses 
in  public  speech. 

15.  Recast  in  twentieth-century  English  '^Hamlet's 
Directions  to  the  Players,''  page  88. 

16.  Memorize  the  following  extracts  from  Wen- 
dell   Phillips'    speeches,    and    deliver    them    with    the 

FOKCE  99 

force  of  Wenddl   Phillips'  "silent   lightning"  delivery. 

We  are  for  a  revolution!  We  say  in  behalf  of  these  hunted 
beings,  whom  God  created,  and  who  law-abiding  Webster  and 
Winthrop  have  sworn  shall  not  find  shelter  in  Massachusetts, — 
we  say  that  they  may  make  their  little  motions,  and  pass  their 
Httle  laws  in  Washington,  but  that  Paneuil  Hall  repeals  them  in 
the  name  of  humanity  and  the  old  Bay  State! 

My  advice  to  workingmen  is  this: 

If  you  want  power  in  this  country;  if  you  want  to  make  3rour- 
selves  felt;  if  you  do  not  want  your  children  to  wait  long  years 
before  they  have  the  bread  on  the  table  they  ought  to  have,  the 
leisure  in  their  lives  they  ought  to  have,  the  opportunities  in 
life  they  ought  to  have;  if  you  don't  want  to  wait  yourselves, — 
write  on  your  banner,  so  that  every  political  trimmer  can  read  it, 
so  that  every  politician,  no  matter  how  short-sighted  he  may  be, 
can  read  it,  **WB  NEVER  PORGETt  If  you  launch  the 
arrow  of  sarcasm  at  labor,  WE  NEVER  PORGETI  If  there  is  a 
division  in  Congress,  and  you  throw  your  vote  in  the  wrong  scale, 
WE  NEVER  PORGETt  You  may  go  down  on  your  knees,  and 
say,  'I  am  sorry  I  did  the  act'— but  we  will  say  'IT  WILL 
SIDE  OP  THE  GRAVE,  NEVER!'**  So  that  a  man  in  taking 
np  the  labor  question  will  know  he  is  dealing  with  a  hair-trigger 
pistol,  and  will  say,  "I  am  to  be  true  to  justice  and  to  man; 
otherwise  I  am  a  dead  duck." 

In  Russia  there  is  no  press,  no  debate,  no  explanation  of  what 
government  does,  no  remonstrance  allowed,  no  agitation  of  public 
issues.  Dead  silence,  like  that  which  reigns  at  the  summit  of 
Mont  Blanc,  freezes  the  whole  empire,  long  ago  described  as  "a 
despotism  tempered  by  assassination."  Meanwhile,  such  des- 
potism has  unsettled  the  brains  of  the  ruling  family,  as  unbridled 
power  doubtless  made  some  of  the  twelve  Caesars  insane;  a  mad- 
man, sporting  with  the  lives  and  comfort  of  a  hundred  millions 
of  men.  The  young  girl  whispers  in  her  mother's  ear,  under  a 
ceiled  roof,  her  pity  for  a  brother  knouted  and, dragged  half 

t    V  '  '   * 



dead  into  exile  for  his  opinions.  The  next  week  she  is  stripped 
naked  and  flogged  to  death  in  the  public  square.  No  inquiry, 
no  explanation,  no  trial,  no  protest,  one  dead  uniform  silence, 
the  law  of  the  tyrant.  Where  is  there  ground  for  any  hope  of 
peaceful  change?  No,  no!  in  such  a  land  dynamite  and  the  dagger 
are  the  necessary  and  proper  substitutes  for  Paneuil  Hall.  Any- 
thing that  will  make  the  mAJ^mttn  quake  in  his  bedchamber,  and 
rouse  his  yictims  into  reckless  and  desperate  resistance.  This 
is  the  only  view  an  American,  the  child  of  1620  and  1776,  can 
take  of  Nihilism.  Any  other  unsettles  and  perplexes  the  ethics 
of  our  civilization. 

Bom  within  sight  of  Bunker  Hill — son  of  Harvard,  whose  first 
pledge  was  "Truth,"  citizen  of  a  republic  based  on  the  daim  that 
no  government  is  rightful  unless  resting  on  the  consent  of  the 
people,  and  which  assumes  to  lead  in  asserting  the  rights  of 
humanity — ^I  at  least  can  say  nothing  else  and  nothing  less — no, 
not  if  every  tile  on  Cambridge  roofs  were  a  devil  hooting  my 

For  practise  on  forceful  selections^  use  ''The  Irrepressi- 
ble Conflict,"  page  67;  ''Abraham  Lincoln/'  page  76; 
"Pass  Prosperity  Around,"  page  470;  "A  Plea  for  Cuba," 
page  so. 



Enthusiasm  is  that  secret  and  harmonious  spirit  that  hovers 
over  the  production  of  genius. 

— ^IsAAC  Disraeli,  Literary  Character. 

If  you  are  addressing  a  body  of  sdentists  on  such  a 
subject  as  the  veins  in  a  butterfly's  wings,  or  on  road  struct* 
ure,  naturally  your  theme  will  not  arouse  much  feeling 
in  either  you  or  yoiu:  audience.  These  are  purely  mental 
subjects.  But  if  you  want  men  to  vote  for  a  measure  that 
will  abolish  child  labor,  or  if  you  would  inspire  them  to 
take  up  arms  for  freedom,  you  must  strike  straight  at 
their  feelings.  We  lie  on  soft  beds,  sit  near  the  radiator 
on  a  cold  day,  eat  cherry  pie,  and  devote  our  attention 
to  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  not  because  we  have  reasoned 
out  that  it  is  the  right  thing  to  do,  but  because  it  feels 
right.  No  one  but  a  d3rspeptic  chooses  his  diet  from  a 
chart.  Our  feelings  dictate  what  we  shall  eat  and  gen- 
erally how  we  shall  act.  Man  is  a  feeling  animal,  hence 
the  public  speaker's  ability  to  arouse  men  to  action  de- 
pends almost  wholly  on  his  ability  to  touch  their  emotions. 

Negro  mothers  on  the  auction-block  seeing  their  chil- 
dren sold  away  from  them  into  slavery  have  flamed  out 
some  of  America's  most  stirring  speeches.  True,  the 
mother  did  not  have  any  knowledge  of  the  technique  of 
speaking,  but  she  had  something  greater  than  all  technique, 
more  effective  than  reason:  feeling.    The  great  speeches 


of  the  world  have  not  been  delivered  on  tariff  reductions 
or  post-office  appropriations.  The  speeches  that  wiU  live 
have  been  charged  with  emotional  force.  Prosperity  and 
peace  are  poor  developers  of  eloquence.  When  great 
wrongs  are  to  be  righted,  when  the  public  heart  is  flaming 
with  passion,  that  is  the  occasion  for  memorable  speaking. 
Patrick  Henry  made  an  immortal  address,  for  in  an 
epochal  crisis  he  pleaded  for  liberty.  He  had  roused  him- 
self to  the  point  where  he  could  honestly  and  passionately 
exclaim,  "Give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death."  His  fame 
would  have  been  different  had  he  lived  to-day  and  argued 
for  the  recall  of  judges. 

The  Power  of  Entiiusiasm 

Political  parties  hire  bands,  and  pay  for  applause — they 
argue  that,  for  vote-getting,  to  stir  up  enthusiasm  is  more 
effective  than  reasoning.  How  far  they  are  right  depends 
on  the  hearers,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  con- 
tagious nature  of  enthusiasm.  A  watch  manufacturer  in 
New  York  tried  out  two  series  of  watch  advertisements; 
one  argued  the  superior  construction,  workmanship, 
durability,  and  guarantee  offered  with  the  watch;  the 
other  was  headed,  "A  Watch  to  be  Proud  of,"  and  dwelt 
upon  the  pleasure  and  pride  of  ownership.  The  latter 
series  sold  twice  as  many  as  the  former.  A  salesman  for 
a  locomotive  works  informed  the  writer  that  in  selling 
railroad  engines  emotional  appeal  was  stronger  than  an 
argument  based  on  mechanical  excellence. 

Illustrations  without  number  might  be  dted  to  show 



that  in  all  our  actions  we  are  emotional  beings.  The 
speaker  who  would  speak  efficiently  must  develop  the 
power  to  arouse  feeling. 

Webster,  great  debater  that  he  was,  knew  that  the  real 
secret  of  a  speaker's  power  was  an  emotional  one.  He 
eloquently  says  of  eloquence: 

"Affected  passion,  intense  expression,  the  pomp  of  declama- 
tion, all  may  aspire  after  it;  they  cannot  reach  it.  It  comes,  if 
it  come  at  all,  like  the  outbreak  of  a  fountain  from  the  earth,  or 
the  bursting  forth  of  volcanic  fires,  with  spontaneous,  original, 
native  force. 

"The  graces  taught  ia  the  schools,  the  costly  ornaments  and 
studied  contrivances  of  speech,  shock  and  disgust  men,  when  their 
own  lives,  and  the  fate  .'of  their  wives,  their  children,  and  their 
country  hang  on  the  decision  of  the  hour.  Then  words  have  lost 
their  power,  rhetoric  is  ia  vain,  and  all  elaborate  oratory  con- 
temptible. Even  genius  itself  then  feels  rebuked  and  subdued,  as 
in  the  presence  of  higher  qualities.  Then  patriotism  is  eloquent, 
then  self-devotion  is  eloquent.  The  dear  conception  outrunning 
the  deductions  of  logic,  the  high  purpose,  the  firm  resolve,  the 
dauntless  spirit,  speaking  on  the  tongue,  beaming  from  the  eye, 
informing  every  feature,  and  urging  the  whole  man  onward, 
right  onward  to  his  subject — ^this,  this  is  eloquence;  or  rather, 
it  is  something  greater  and  higher  than  all  eloquence;  it  is  action* 
noble,  sublime,  godlike  action." 

When  traveling  through  the  Northwest  some  time  ago, 
one  of  the  present  writers  strolled  up  a  village  street  after 
dinner  and  noticed  a  crowd  listening  to  a  "faker"  speaking 
on  a  comer  from  a  goods-box.  Remembering  Emerson's 
advice  about  learning  something  from  every  man  we  meet, 
the  observer  stopped  to  listen  to  this  speaker's  appeal. 
He  was  selling  a  hair  tonic,  which  he  claimed  to  have  dis- 
covered in  Arizona.   He  removed  his  hat  to  show  what  thb 


remedy  had  done  for  him,  washed  his  face  in  it  to  demon- 
strate that  it  was  as  harmless  as  water,  and  enlarged  on  its 
merits  in  such  an  enthusiastic  manner  that  the  half- 
dollars  poured  in  on  him  in  a  silver  flood.  When  he  had 
supplied  the  audience  with  hair  tonic,  he  asked  why  a 
greater  proportion  of  men  than  women  were  bald.  No 
one  knew.  He  explained  that  it  was  because  women  wore 
thinner-soled  shoes,  and  so  made  a  good  electrical  con- 
nection with  mother  earth,  while  men  wore  thick,  dry- 
soled  shoes  that  did  not  transmit  the  earth's  electricity  to 
the  body.  Men's  hair,  not  having  a  proper  amount  of 
electrical  food,  died  and  fell  out.  Of  course  he  had  a 
remedy — a  little  copper  plate  that  should  be  nailed  on  the 
bottom  of  the  shoe.  He  pictiu'ed  in  enthusiastic  and  vivid 
terms  the  desirability  of  escaping  baldness — ^and  paid 
tributes  to  his  copper  plates.  Strange  as  it  may  seem 
when  the  story  is  told  in  cold  print,  the  speaker's  en- 
thusiasm had  swept  his  audience  with  him,  and  they 
crushed  around  his  stand  with  outstretched  "quarters" 
in  their  anxiety  to  be  the  possessors  of  these  magical 
plates  1 

Emerson's  suggestion  had  been  well  taken — the  observer 
had  seen  again  the  wonderful,  persuasive  power  of  en- 

Enthusiasm  sent  millions  crusading  into  the  Holy  Land 
to  redeem  it  from  the  Saracens.  Enthusiasm  plunged 
Eiu'ope  into  a  thirty  years'  war  over  religion.  Enthusiasm 
sent  three  small  ships  plying  the  unknown  sea  to  the 
shores  of  a  new  world.  When  Napoleon's  army  were 
worn  out  and  discoiu-aged  in  their  ascent  of  the  Alps, 


the  little  Coiporal  stopped  them  and  ordered  the  bands 
to  play  the  Marseillaise.  Under  its  soul-stirring  strains 
there  were  no  Alps. 

listen!  Emerson  said:  ''Nothing  great  was  ever 
achieved  without  enthusiasm."  Carlyle  declared  that 
''Every  great  movement  in  the  annals  of  history  has  been 
the  triumph  of  enthusiasm."  It  is  as  contagious  as 
measles.  Eloquence  is  half  inspiration.  Sweep  your 
audience  with  you  in  a  pulsation  of  enthusiasm.  Let  your- 
self go.  "A  man,"  said  Oliver  Cromwell,  "never  rises  so 
high  as  when  he  knows  not  whither  he  is  going." 

Hew  are  We  to  Acquire  and  Develop  Enihusiasmf 

It  is  not  to  be  slipped  on  like  a  smoking  jacket.  A  book 
cannot  furnish  you  with  it.  It  is  a  growth — an  effect. 
But  an  effect  of  what?   Let  us  see. 

Emerson  wrote:  "A  painter  told  me  that  nobody  could 
draw  a  tree  without  in  some  sort  becoming  a  tree;  or  draw 
a  child  by  stud3dng  the  outlines  of  his  form  merely, — ^but, 
by  watching  for  a  time  his  motion  and  plays,  the  painter 
enters  his  natiu'e,  and  then  can  draw  him  at  will  in  every 
attitude.  So  Roos  'entered  into  the  inmost  nature  of  his 
sheep.'  I  knew  a  draughtsman  employed  in  a  public  sur- 
vey, who  fotmd  that  he  could  not  sketch  the  rocks  until 
their  geological  structure  was  first  explained  to  him." 

When  Sarah  Bernhardt  plays  a  difficult  r61e  she  fre- 
quently will  speak  to  no  one  from  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon until  after  the  performance.  From  the  hour  of  f oiu: 
she  lives  her  character.    Booth,  it  is  reported,  would  not 


permit  anyone  to  speak  to  him  between  the  acts  of  his 
Shakesperean  r61es,  for  he  was  Macbeth  then — ^not  Booth. 
Dante,  exiled  from  his  beloved  Florence,  condenmed  to 
death,  lived  in  caves,  half  starved;  then  Dante  wrote  out 
his  heart  in  "The  Divine  Comedy."  Bun3ran  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  his'^Pflgrim's  Progress"  so  thoroughly  that 
he  fell  down  on  the  floor  of  Bedford  jail  and  wept  for  joy. 
Turner,  who  lived  in  a  garret,  arose  before  daybreak  and 
walked  over  the  hills  nine  miles  to  see  the  sun  rise  on  the 
ocean,  that  he  might  catch  the  spirit  of  its  wonderful 
beauty.  Wendell  Phillips'  sentences  were  full  of  "silent 
lightning"  because  he  bore  in  his  heart  the  sorrow  of  five 
million  slaves. 

There  is  only  one  way  to  get  feeling  into  your  speaking — 
and  whatever  else  you  forget,  forget  not  this:  You  must 
actually  ENTER  INTO  the  character  you  impersonate, 
the  cause  you  advocate,  the  case  you  argue — enter  into  it 
so  deeply  that  it  clothes  you,  enthralls  you,  possesses  jrou 
wholly.  Then  you  are,  in  the  true  meaning  of  the  word, 
in  sympathy  with  yoiu*  subject,  for  its  feeling  is  your 
feeling,  you  "feel  with"  it,  and  therefore  yoiu-  enthusiasm 
is  both  genuine  and  contagious.  The  Carpenter  who 
spoke  as  "never  man  spake"  uttered  words  bom  out  of  a 
passion  of  love  for  humanity — ^he  had  entered  into  hu- 
manity, and  thus  became  Man. 

But  we  must  not  look  upon  the  foregoing  words  as  a 
facile  prescription  for  decocting  a  feeling  which  may  thai 
be  ladled  out  to  a  complacent  audience  in  quantities  to 
suit  the  need  of  the  moment.  Genuine  feeling  in  a  speech 
is  bone  and  blood  of  the  speech  itself  and  not  something 


that  may  be  added  to  it  or  substracted  at  will.  In  the 
ideal  address  theme,  speaker  and  audience  become  one, 
fused  by  the  emotion  and  thought  of  the  hoiu*. 

The  Need  of  Sympathy  far  Humanity 

It  is  impossible  to  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  necessity 
for  the  speaker's  having  a  broad  and  deep  tenderness  for 
htunan  nature.  One  of  Victor  Hugo's  biographers  at- 
tributes his  power  as  an  orator  and  writer  to  his  wide 
sympathies  and  profound  religious  feelings.  Recently  we 
heard  the  editor  of  Cottier's  Weekly  speak  on  short- 
story  writing,  and  he  so  often  emphasized  the  necessity 
for  this  broad  love  for  htunanity ,  this  truly  religious  feeling, 
that  he  apologized  twice  for  delivering  a  sermon.  Few 
if  any  of  the  immortal  speeches  were  ever  delivered  for  a 
selfish  or  a  narrow  cause — they  were  bom  out  of  a  pas- 
sionate desire  to  help  humanity;  instances,  Paul's  address 
to  the  Athenians  on  Mars  Hill,  Lincoln's  Gettysburg 
speech.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  Henry's  address  be- 
fore the  Virginia  Convention  of  Del^ates. 

The  seal  and  sign  of  greatness  is  a  desire  to  serve  others. 
Self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  life,  but  self-abnegation 
is  the  first  law  of  greatness — and  of  art.  Selfishness  is  the 
ftmdamental  cause  of  all  sin,  it  is  the  thing  that  all  great 
religions,  all  worthy  philosophies,  have  struck  at.  Out  of 
a  heart  of  real  sympathy  and  love  come  the  speeches  that 
move  htunanity. 

Former  United  States  Senator  Albert  J.  Beveridge  in  an 
introduction  to  one  of  the  volimies  of  ''Modem  Elo- 
quence/' says:    ''The  profoundest  feeling  among  the 


masses,  the  most  influential  element  in  thdr  chaiacteTi  is 
the  religious  element.  It  is  as  instinctive  and  elemental 
as  the  law  of  self-preservation.  It  informs  the  whole  in- 
tellect and  personality  of  the  people.  And  he  who  would 
greatly  influence  the  people  by  uttering  their  unformed 
thoughts  must  have  this  great  and  imanalyzable  bond  of 
sympathy  with  them." 

When  the  men  of  Ulster  armed  themselves  to  oppose  the 
passage  of  the  Home  Rule  Act,  one  of  the  present  writers 
assigned  to  a  hundred  men  ''Home  Rule"  as  the  topic 
for  an  address  to  be  prepared  by  each.  Among  this  group 
were  some  brilliant  speakers,  several  of  them  experienced 
lawyers  and  political  campaigners.  Some  of  their  ad- 
dresses showed  a  remarkable  knowledge  and  grasp  of  the 
subject;  others  were  clothed  in  the  most  attractive 
phrases.  But  a  clerk,  without  a  great  deal  of  education 
and  experience,  arose  and  told  how  he  spent  his  boyhood 
days  in  Ulster,  how  his  mother  while  holding  him  on  her 
lap  had  pictiu'ed  to  him  Ulster's  deeds  of  valor.  He  spoke 
of  a  picture  in  his  uncle's  home  that  showed  the  men  of 
Ulster  conquering  a  t3n:ant  and  marching  on  to  victory. 
His  voice  quivered,  and  with  a  hand  pointing  upward  he 
declared  that  if  the  men  of  Ulster  went  to  war  they  would 
not  go  alone — a  great  God  would  go  with  them. 

The  speech  thrilled  and  electrified  the  audience.  It 
thrills  yet  as  we  recall  it.  The  high-sounding  phrases, 
the  historical  knowledge,  the  philosophical  treatment,  ol 
the  other  speakers  largely  failed  to  arouse  any  deep  in- 
terest, while  the  genuine  conviction  and  feeling  of  the 
modest  clerk,  speaking  on  a  subject  that  lay  deep  in  his 


hearty  not  only  electrified  his  audience  but  won  their 
personal  sympathy  for  the  cause  he  advocated. 

As  Webster  said,  it  is  of  no  use  to  try  to  pretend  to 
sympathy  or  feelings.  It  cannot  be  done  successfully. 
'^  Nature  is  forever  putting  a  premitun  on  reality."  What 
is  false  is  soon  detected  as  such.  The  thoughts  and  feelings 
that  create  and  mould  the  speech  in  the  study  must  be 
bom  again  when  the  speech  is  delivered  from  the  platform. 
Do  not  let  your  words  say  one  thing,  and  your  voice  and 
attitude  another.  There  is  no  room  here  for  half-hearted, 
nonchalant  methods  of  delivery.  Sincerity  is  the  very  soul 
of  eloquence.  Carlyle  was  right:  ''No  Mirabeau,  Na- 
poleon, Bums,  Cromwell,  no  man  adequate  to  do  anything, 
but  is  first  of  all  in  right  eamest  about  it;  what  I  call  a 
sincere  man.  I  should  say  sincerity,  a  great,  deep,  genuine 
sincerity,  is  the  first  characteristic  of  all  men  in  any  way 
heroic.  Not  the  sincerity  that  calls  itself  sincere;  ah  no, 
that  is  a  very  poor  matter  indeed;  a  shallow  braggart, 
conscious  sincerity,  oftenest  self-conceit  mainly.  The 
great  man's  sincerity  is  of  the  kind  he  cannot  speak  of — ^is 
not  conscious  of." 


It  is  one  thing  to  convince  the  would-be  speaker  that 
he  ought  to  put  feeling  into  his  speeches;  often  it  is  quite 
another  thing  for  him  to  do  it.  The  average  speaker  is 
afraid  to  let  himself  go,  and  continually  suppresses  his 
emotions.  When  you  put  enough  feeling  into  your 
speeches  they  will  sotmd  overdone  to  you,  imless  you  are 
an  experienced  speaker.    They  will  sound  too  strong,  if 


you  are  not  used  to  enlarging  for  platform  or  stage,  for 
the  delineation  of  the  emotions  must  be  enlarged  for  pub- 
lic delivery. 

I.  Study  the  following  speech,  going  back  in  your 
imagination  to  the  time  and  circumstances  that  brought  it 
forth.  Make  it  not  a  memorized  historical  document,  but 
fed  the  emotions  that  gave  it  birth.  The  q>eech  is  only 
an  effect;  live  over  in  your  own  heart  the  causes  that  pro- 
duced it  and  try  to  deliver  it  at  white  heat.  It  is  not 
possible  for  you  to  put  too  much  real  feeling  into  it» 
though  of  course  it  would  be  quite  easy  to  rant  and  fill  it 
with  false  emotion.  This  speech,  according  to  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson, started  the.  ball  of  the  Revolution  rolling.  Men 
were  then  willing  to  go  out  and  die  for  liberty. 



Mr.  President,  it  is  natural  to  man  to  indulge  in  the  illusions 
of  hope.  We  are  apt  to  shut  our  eyes  against  a  painful  truth, 
and  listen  to  the  song  of  that  siren,  till  she  transforms  us  to  beasts. 
Is  this  the  part  of  wise  men,  engaged  in  a  great  and  arduous 
struggle  for  liberty?  Are  we  disposed  to  be  of  the  number  of  those 
who,  having  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears,  hear  not,  the  things 
which  so  nearly  concern  our  temporal  salvation?  For  my  part, 
whatever  anguish  of  spirit  it  may  cost,  I  am  willing  to  know 
the  whole  truth;  to  know  the  worst,  and  to  provide  for  it. 

I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are  guided;  and  that 
is  the  lamp  of  experience.  I  know  of  no  way  of  judging  of  the 
future  but  by  the  past.  And  judging  by  the  past,  I  wish  to  know 
what  there  has  been  in  the  conduct  of  the  British  Ministry  for 
the  last  ten  years  to  justify  those  hopes  with  which  gentlemen 
have  been  pleased  to  solace  themselves  and  the  House?  Is  it 
that  insidious  smile  with  which  our  petition  has  been  lately  re- 


ceived?  Trust  it  not,  sir;  it  will  prove  a  snare  to  your  feet. 
Suffer  not  yourselves  to  be  "betrayed  with  a  kiss"!  Ask  your- 
selves, how  this  gracious  reception  of  our  petition  comports  with 
those  warlike  preparations  which  cover  our  waters  and  darken 
our  land.  Are  fleets  and  armies  necessary  to  a  work  of  love  and 
reooncilation?  Have  we  shown  ourselves  so  unwiUing  to  be  rec- 
onciled, that  force  must  be  called  in  to  win  back  our  love?  Let 
us  not  deceive  ourselves,  sir.  These  are  the  implements  of  war 
and  subjugation,  the  last  "arguments"  to  which  kings  resort. 
I  ask  gentlemen,  sir,  what  means  this  martial  array,  if  its  pur- 
pose be  not  to  force  us  to  submission?  Can  gentlemen  assign  any 
other  possible  motive  for  it?  Has  Great  Britian  any  enemy  in 
this  quarter  of  the  world,  to  (all  for  all  this  accumulation  of  navies 
and  armies?  No,  sir,  she  has  none.  They  are  meant  for  us;  they 
can  be  meant  for  jio  other.  They  are  sent  over  to  bind  and  to 
rivet  upon  us  those  chains  which  the  British  Ministry  have  been 
so  long  forging.  And  what  have  we  to  oppose  to  them?  Shall 
we  try  argumeAt?  Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that  for  the  last  ten 
years.  Have  we  an3rthing  new  to  offer  upon  the  subject?  Noth- 
ing. We  have  held  the  subject  up  in  every  light  of  which  it  is 
capable;  but  it  has  been  all  in  vain.  Shall  we  resort  to  entreaty 
and  humble  supplication?  What  terms  shall  we  find  which  have 
not  been  already  exhausted?  /Let  us  not,  I  beseech  you,  sir,  de- 
ceive ourselves  longer.  Sir,  we  have  done  everything  that  could 
be  done,  to  avert  the  storm  which  is  now  coming  on.  We  have 
petitioned,  we  have  remonstrated,  we  have  supplicated,  we  have 
prostrated  ourselves  before  the  throne,  and  have  implored  its 
interposition  to  arrest  the  tryannical  hands  of  the  Ministry  and 
Parliament.  Our  petitions  have  been  slighted;  our  remonstrances 
have  produced  additional  violence  and  insult;  our  supplications 
have  been  disregarded,  and  we  have  been  spumed  with  contempt 
from  the  foot  of  the  throne.  In  vain,  after  these  things, 
may  we  indulge  in  the  fond  hope  of  peace  and  reconciliation. 
There  is  no  longer  any  room  for  hope.  If  we  wish  to  be  free,  if 
we  mean  to  preserve  inviolate  those  inestimable  privileges  for 
which  we  have  been  so  long  contending;  if  we  mean  not  basely 
to  abandon  the  noble  struggle  in  which  we  have  been  so  long  en- 
gaged, and  which  we  have  pledged  ourselves  never  to  abandon 
until  the  glorious  object  of  our  contest  shall  be  obtained,  we  must 


fight;  I  repeat  it,  sir,  we  must  fight!  An  appeal  to  arms,  and  to 
the  God  of  Hosts,  is  all  that  is  left  us! 

They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak — "unable  to  cope  with  so 
formidable  an  adversary  "I  But  when  shall  we  be  stronger?  Will 
it  be  the  next  week,  or  the  next  year?  Will  it  be  when  we  are 
totally  disarmed,  and  when  a  British  guard  shall  be  stationed  in 
every  house?  Shall  we  gather  strength  by  irresolution  and  in- 
action? Shall  we  kcqtiire  the  means  of  effectual  resistance,  by 
lying  supinely  on  our  backs,  and  hugging  the  delusive  phantom 
of  hope,  tmtfl  our  enemies  have  botmd  us  hand  and  foot?  Sir, 
we  are  not  weak,  if  we  make  a  proper  use  of  those  means  which 
the  God  of  Nature  hath  placed  in  our  power.  Three  millions  of 
people,  armed  in  the  holy  cause  of  Liberty,  and  in  such  a  country 
as  that  which  we  possess,  are  invincible  by  any  force  Which  our 
enemy  can  send  against  us.  Besides,  sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our 
battles  alone.  There  is  a  just  Power  who  presides  over  the  des- 
tinies of  nations,  and  who  will  raise  up  friends  to  fight  our  battles 
for  us.  The  battle,  sir,  is  not  to  the  strong  alone;  it  is  to  the 
vigilant,  the  active,  the  brave.  Besides,  sir,  we  have  no  election. 
If  we  were  base  enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late  to  retire 
from  the  contest.  There  is  no  retreat,  but  in  submission  and 
slavery.  Our  chains  are  forged.  Their  clanking  may  be  heard 
on  the  plains  of  Boston.  The  war  is  inevitable;  and  let  it  come! 
I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it  come  I  It  is  in  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  mat- 
ter. Gentlemen  may  cry ''Peace,  peace!"  but  there  is  no  peace! 
The  war  is  actually  begun!  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the 
north  will  bring  to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms!  Our 
brethren  are  already  in  the  field!  Why  stand  we  here  idle?  What 
is  it  that  gentlemen  wish?  What  would  they  have?  Is  life  so 
dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains 
and  slavery?  Forbid  it.  Almighty  Powers! — ^I  know  not  what 
course  others  may  take;  but  as  for  me,  give  me  liberty  or  give 
me  death! 

2.  Live  over  in  your  imagination  all  the  solemnity  and 
sorrow  that  Lincoln  felt  at  the  Gettysburg  cemetery.  The 
feeling  in  this  speech  is  very  deep,  but  it  is  quieter  and  more 
subdued  than  the  preceding  one.   The  purpose  of  Henry's 


address  was  to  get  action;  Lincoln's  q>eech  was  meant  only 
to  dedicate  the  last  resting  place  of  those  who  had  acted. 
Read  it  over  and  over  (see  page  50)  until  it  bums  in  your 
soul.  Then  commit  it  and  repeat  it  for  emotional  ex- 

3.  Beecher's  q>eech  on  Lincoln,  page  76;  Thurston's 
qpeech  on  ''A  Plea  for  Cuba/'  page  50;  and  the  fol- 
lowing selectioUi  are  recommended  for  practise  in  develop- 
ing feeling  in  delivery. 

A  living  force  that  brings  to  itself  all  the  resources  of  imagina- 
tion, all  the  inspirations  <^  feeling,  all  that  is  influential  in  body, 
in  voice,  in  eye,  in  gesture,  in  posture,  in  the  whole  animated  man, 
is  in  strict  analogy  with  the  divine  thought  and  the  divine  ar- 
rangement; and  there  is  no  misconstruction  more  utterly  untrue 
and  fatal  than  this:  that  oratory  is  an  artificial  thing,  which 
deals  with  baubles  and  trifles,  for  the  sake  of  making  bubbles  of 
pleasure  for  transient  effect  on  mercurial  audiences.  So  far  from 
that,  it  is  the  consecration  of  the  whole  man  to  the  noblest  pur- 
poses to  which  one  can  address  himself — ^the  education  and  in- 
spiration of  his  fellow  men  by  all  that  there  is  in  learning,  by  all 
that  there  is  in  thought,  by  all  that  there  is  in  feeling,  by  all  that 
there  is  in  all  of  them,  sent  home  through  the  chantiftls  of  taste 
and  of  beauty. — ^Hbnkt  Wasd  Bbbchbr. 

4.  What  in  your  opinion  are  the  relative  values  of 
thought  and  feeling  in  a  speech? 

5.  Could  we  dispense  with  either? 

6.  What  kinds  of  selections  or  occasions  require  much 
feeUng  and  enthusiasm?    Which  require  little? 

7.  Invent  a  list  of  ten  subjects  for  speeches,  saying 
which  would  give  most  room  for  pure  thought  and  which 
for  feeling. 

8.  Prepare  and  deliver  a  ten-nunute  speech  denouncing 


the  (imaginary)  unfeeling  plea  of  an  attorney;  he  may  be 
either  the  counsel  for  the  defense  or  the  prosecuting 
attorney,  and  the  accused  may  be  assumed  to  be  either 
guilty  or  innocent,  at  your  option. 

9.  Is  feeling  more  important  than  the  technical  prin- 
ciples expounded  in  chapters  m  to  VII?   Why? 

10.  Analyze  the  secret  of  some  effective  speech  or 
speaker.   To  what  is  the  success  due? 

11.  Give  an  example  from  your  own  observation  of  the 
effect  of  feeling  and  enthusiasm  on  listeners. 

Z2«  Memorize  Carlyle's  and  Emerson's  remarks  on  en- 

13.  Deliver  Patrick  Henry's  address,  page  no,  and 
Thurston's  speech,  page  50,  without  show  of  feeling  or 
enthusiasm.    What  is  the  result? 

14.  Repeat,  with  all  the  feeling  these  selections  de- 
mand.   What  is  the  result? 

15.  What  steps  do  you  intend  to  take  to  develop  the 
power  of  enthusiasm  and  feeling  in  speaking? 

16.  Write  and  deliver  a  five-nunute  speech  ridiculing 
a  speaker  who  uses  bombast,  pomposity  and  over- 
enthusiasm.   Imitate  him. 



Animis  opibusque  parati — ^Ready  in  mind  and  resources. 

— Motto  of  South  Carolina, 

In  omnibus  n^otiis  prius  quam  aggrediare,  adhibenda  est 
praeparatio  diligens — ^In  all  matters  before  beginning  a  diligent 
preparation  should  be  made. 

— Cicero,  De  Officiis. 

Take  your  dictionary  and  look  up  the  words  that  con- 
tain the  Latin  stem  flu — the  results  will  be  suggestive. 

At  first  blush  it  would  seem  that  fluency  consists  in 
a  ready,  easy  use  of  words.  Not  so — the  flowing  quality 
of  speech  is  much  more,  for  it  is  a  composite  effect,  with 
each  of  its  prior  conditions  deserving  of  careful  notice. 

The  Sources  of  Fluency 

Speaking  broadly,  fluency  is  almost  entirely  a  matter 
of  preparation.  Certainly,  native  gifts  figure  largely  here, 
as  in  every  art,  but  even  natiu'al  facility  is  dependent  on 
the  very  same  laws  of  preparation  that  hold  good  for  the 
man  of  supposedly  small  native  endowment.  Let  this 
encourage  you  if,  like  Moses,  you  are  prone  to  complain 
that  you  are  not  a  ready  speaker. 

Have  you  ever  stopped  to  analyze  that  expression, 
"a,  ready  speaker?"  Readiness,  in  its  prime  sense,  is 
preparedness',  and  they  are  most  ready  who  are  best  pre- 
pared.  Quick  firing  depends  more  on  the  alert  finger  than 


on  the  hair  trigger.  Your  fluency  will  be  in  direct  ratio 
to  two  important  conditions:  your  knowledge  of  what  you 
are  going  to  say,  and  your  being  accustomed  to  telling 
what  you  know  to  an  audience.  This  gives  us  the  second 
great  element  of  fluency — to  preparation  must  be  added 
the  ease  that  arises  from  practise;  of  which  more  pres- 

Knowledge  is  EssenUal 

Mr.  Bryan  is  a  most  fluent  speaker  when  he  speaks  on 
political  problems,  tendencies  of  the  time,  and  questions 
of  morals.  It  is  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  he  would  not 
be  so  fluent  in  speaking  on  the  bird  life  of  the  Florida 
Everglades.  Mr.  John  Burroughs  might  be  at  his  best 
on  this  last  subject,  yet  entirely  lost  in  talking  about  inter- 
national law.  Do  not  expect  to  speak  fluently  on  a  subject 
that  you  know  little  or  nothing  about.  Ctesiphon  boasted 
that  he  could  speak  all  day  (a  sin  in  itself)  on  any  subject 
that  an  audience  would  suggest.  He  was  banished  by  the 

But  preparation  goes  beyond  the  getting  of  the  facts 
in  the  case  you  are  to  present:  it  includes  also  the  ability 
to  think  and  arrange  yoiu:  thoughts,  a  full  and  precise 
vocabulary,  an  easy  manner  of  speech  and  breathing, 
absence  of  self-consciousness,  and  the  several  other 
characteristics  of  efficient  delivery  that  have  deserved 
special  attention  in  other  parts  of  this  book  rather  than  in 
this  chapter. 

Preparation  may  be  either  general  or  specific;  usually  it 
should  be  both.    A  life-time  of  reading,  of  companionship 


with  stirring  thoughts,  of  wrestling  with  the  problems  of 
life — ^this  constitutes  a  general  preparation  of  inestimable 
worth.  Out  of  a  well-stored  mind,  and — ^richer  still — ^a 
broad  experience,  and — ^best  of  all — a  warmly  sympathetic 
heart,  the  speaker  will  have  to  draw  much  material  that 
no  immediate  study  could  provide.  General  preparation 
consbts  of  all  that  a  man  has  put  into  himself,  all  that 
heredity  and  environment  have  instilled  into  him,  and — 
that  other  rich  source  of  preparedness  for  speech — ^the 
friendship  of  wise  companions.  When  Schiller  returned 
home  after  a  visit  with  Goethe  a  friend  remarked:  "I  am 
amazed  by  the  progress  Schiller  can  make  within  a  single 
fortnight."  It  was  the  progressive  influence  of  a  new 
friendship.  Proper  friendships  form  one  of  the  best  means 
for  the  formation  of  ideas  and  ideals,  for  they  enable  one 
to  practise  in  giving  expression  to  thought.  The  speaker 
who  would  speak  fluently  before  an  audience  should  learn 
to  speak  fluently  and  entertainingly  with  a  friend.  Clarify 
your  ideas  by  putting  them  in  words;  the  talker  gains 
as  much  from  his  conversation  as  the  listener.  You  some- 
times begin  to  converse  on  a  subject  thinking  you  have 
very  little  to  say,  but  one  idea  gives  birth  to  another,  and 
you  are  surprised  to  learn  that  the  more  you  give  the  more 
you  have  to  give.  This  give-and-take  of  friendly  conversa- 
tion develops  mentality,  and  fluency  in  expression.  Long- 
fellow said:  ''A  single  conversation  across  the  table  with  a 
wise  man  is  better  than  ten  years'  study  of  books,"  and 
Holmes  whimsically  yet  none  the  less  truthfully  declared 
that  half  the  time  he  talked  to  find  out  what  he  thought. 
But  that  method  must  not  be  applied  on  the  platform! 


After  all  this  enrichment  of  life  by  storage,  must  come 
the  special  preparation  for  the  particular  speech.  This 
is  of  so  definite  a  sort  that  it  warrants  separate  chapter- 
treatment  later. 


But  preparation  must  also  be  of  another  sort  than  the 
gathering,  organizing,  and  shaping  of  materials — ^it  must 
include  practise,  which,  like  mental  preparation,  must  be 
both  general  and  special. 

Do  not  fed  surprised  or  discouraged  if  practise  on  the 
principles  of  delivery  herein  laid  down  seems  to  retard 
your  fluency.  For  a  time,  this  will  be  inevitable.  While 
you  are  working  for  proper  inflection,  for  instance,  in- 
flection will  be  demanding  your  first  thoughts,  and  the 
flow  of  your  speech,  for  the  time  being,  will  be  secondary. 
This  warning,  however,  is  strictly  for  the  closet,  for  your 
practise  at  home.  Do  not  carry  any  thoughts  of  inflection 
with  you  to  the  platform.  There  you  must  tkink  only  of 
your  subject.  There  is  an  absolute  telqpathy  between  the 
audience  and  the  speaker.  If  your  thought  goes  to  your 
gesture,  their  thought  will  too.  If  your  interest  goes  to 
the  quality  of  your  voice,  they  will  be  regarding  that  in- 
stead of  what  your  voice  is  uttering. 

You  have  doubtless  been  adjured  to  "forget  everything 
but  your  subject."  This  advice  sa3rs  either  too  much  or 
too  little.  The  truth  is  that  while  on  the  platform  )rou 
must  not  forget  a  great  many  things  that  are  not  in  your 
subject,  but  you  must  not  think  of  them.  Your  attention 
must  consciously  go  only  to  your  message,  but  sub- 


consciously  you  will  be  attending  to  the  points  of  technique 
which  have  become  more  or  less  habUual  by  pracUse. 

A  nice  balance  between  these  two  kinds  of  attention  is 

You  can  no  more  escape  this  law  than  you  can  live  with- 
out air:  Your  platform  gestures,  your  voice,  your  in- 
flection, will  all  be  just  as  good  as  your  habU  of  gesture, 
voice,  and  inflection  makes  them — ^no  better.  Even  the 
thought  of  whether  you  are  speaking  fluently  or  not  will 
have  the  effect  of  marring  your  flow  of  speech. 

Return  to  the  opening  chapter,  on  self-confidence,  and 
again  lay  its  precepts  to  heart.  Learn  by  rules  to  speak 
without  thinking  of  rules.  It  is  not — or  ought  not  to  be — 
necessary  for  you  to  stop  to  think  how  to  say  the  alphabet 
correctly,  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  slightly  more  difficult 
for  you  to  repeat  Z,  Y,  X  than  it  is  to  say  X,  Y,  Z — ^habit 
has  established  the  order.  Just  so  you  must  master  the 
laws  of  efficiency  in  speaking  until  it  is  a  second  nature 
for  you  to  speak  correctly  rather  than  otherwise.  A  be- 
ginner at  the  piano  has  a  great  deal  of  trouble  with  the 
mechanics  of  playing,  but  as  time  goes  on  his  fingers  be- 
come trained  and  almost  instinctively  wander  over  the 
keys  correctly.  As  an  inexperienced  speaker  you  will  find 
a  great  deal  of  difficulty  at  first  in  putting  principles 
into  practise,  for  you  will  be  scared,  like  the  young 
swimmer,  and  make  some  crude  strokes,  but  if  you  per- 
severe you  will  "win  out." 

Thus,  to  siun  up,  the  vocabulary  you  have  enlarged 
by  study,  1  the  ease  in  speaking  you  have  developed  by 

>8m  ohApter  on  "Iniiiwtina  tbe  Voo«buUiy." 


practise,  the  economy  of  your  well-studied  emphasis, 
all  will  subconsciously  come  to  your  aid  on  the  platform. 
Then  the  habits  you  have  formed  will  be  ft<trning 
you  a  splendid  dividend.  The  fluency  of  3rour  speeds 
will  be  at  the  speed  of  flow  your  practise  has  made 

But  this  means  work.  What  good  habit  does  not?  No 
philosopher's  stone  thatwill  act  as  a  substitute  for  laborious 
practise  has  ever  been  found.  If  it  were,  it  would  be  thrown 
away,  because  it  would  kill  our  greatest  joy — ^the  delight 
of  acquisition.  If  public-q>eaking  means  to  you  a  fuller 
life,  you  will  know  no  greater  happiness  than  a  well- 
spoken  speech.  The  time  you  have  spent  in  gathering 
ideas  and  in  private  practise  of  speaking  you  will  find 
amply  rewarded. 


1.  What  advantages  has  the  fluent  speaker  over  the 
hesitating  talker? 

2.  What  influences,  within  and  without  the  man  him- 
self, work  against  fluency? 

3.  Select  from  the  daily  paper  some  topic  for  an  ad- 
dress and  make  a  three-minute  address  on  it.  Do  your 
words  come  freely  and  your  sentences  flow  out  rhythmic- 
ally?  Practise  on  the  same  topic  imtil  they  do. 

4.  Select  some  subject  with  which  you  are  familiar 
and  test  your  fluency  by  speaking  extemporaneously. 

5.  Take  one  of  the  sentiments  given  below  and,  fol- 
lovdng  the  advice  given  on  pages  118-119,  construct  a 
short  speech  beginning  mth  the  last  word  in  the  sentence. 


Machixiery  has  created  a  new  economic  world. 

The  Socialist  Party  is  a  strenuous  worker  for  peace. 

He  was  a  crushed  and  broken  man  when  he  left  prison. 

War  must  ultimately  give  way  to  world-wide  arbitration. 

The  labor  unions  demand  a  more  equal  distribution  of  the 
wealth  that  labor  creates. 

6.  Put  the  sentiments  of  Mr.  Bryan's  "Prince  of 
Peace,"  on  page  448,  into  your  own  words.  Honestly 
criticise  your  own  effort. 

7.  Take  any  of  the  following  quotations  and  make  a 
five-minute  speech  on  it  without  pausing  to  prepare.  Tlie 
first  efforts  may  be  very  lame,  but  if  you  want  speed  on  a 
typewriter,  a  record  for  a  hundred-3rard  dash,  or  facility 
in  speaking,  you  must  practise,  practise,  PRACTISE. 

There  lives  more  faith  in  honest  doubt, 
Believe  me,  than  in  half  the  creeds. 

— ^Tbnnyson,  In  Memoriam. 

Howe'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me, 

'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good. 
Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets. 

And  siitiple  faith  than  Norman  blood. 

— ^Tennyson,  Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere. 

'Tis'  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view 
And  robes  the  mountain  in  its  azure  hue. 

— Campbell,  Pleasures  of  Hope. 

His  best  companions,  innocence  and  health. 
And  his  best  riches,  ignorance  of  wealth. 

— Goldsmith,  The  Deserted  ViUage. 

Beware  of  desperate  steps!    The  darkest  day. 
Live  till  tomorrow,  will  have  passed  away. 

— CowPBR,  Needless  Alarm. 


My  country  is  the  world,  and  my  religion  is  to  do  good. 

— ^Painb,  Rights  of  Man, 

Trade  it^  may  help,  society  extend, 

But  lures  the  pirate,  and  corrupts  the  friend: 

It  raises  armies  in  a  nation's  aid. 

But  bribes  a  senate,  and  the  land's  betray'd. 

— PoFB,  Moral  Essays. 

O  God,  that  men  should  put  an  enemy  in  their  mouths  to  steal 
away  their  brains! — Shakbspbakb,  Oihello. 

It  matters  not  how  strait  the  gate, 
How  charged  with  punishment  the  scroll, 
I  am  the  master  of  my  fate, 
I  am  the  captain  of  my  soul. 

— ^Hbnlbt,  ItwiOus. 

The  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things, 
I  am  sure  we  should  all  be  happy  as  kings. 

— Stevenson,  A  Child's  Garden  of  Verses. 

If  your  morals  are  dreary,  depend  upon  it  they  are  wrong. 

— Stevenson,  Essays. 

Every  advantage  has  its  tax.    I  learn  to  be  content. 

— ^BicE&soN,  Essays. 

8.  Make  a  two-minute  speech  on  any  of  the  following 
general  subjects,  but  you  will  find  that  your  ideas  will 
come  more  readily  if  you  narrow  your  subject  by  taking 
some  specific  phase  of  it.  For  instance,  instead  of  trying 
to  speak  on  ''Law"  in  general,  take  the  proposition, 
"The  Poor  Man  Cannot  Afford  to  Prosecute;"  or  in- 
stead of  dwelling  on  "Leisure,"  show  how  modem  speed 
b  creating  more  leisure.  In  this  way  you  may  expand 
this  subject  list  indefinitely. 







Woman's  Suffrage. 

Initiative  and  Referendum. 

A  Lai:ger  Navy. 



Foreign  Immigration. 

The  Liquor  Traffic. 

Labor  Unions. 



Single  Tax. 























The  Par  East. 






Child  Labor. 



The  Theater. 





Public  Speaking. 



The  Most  Dramatic  Moment  of 

My  Life. 
My  Happiest  Days. 
Things  Worth  While. 
What  I  Hope  to  Achieve. 
My  Greatest  Desire. 
What  I  Would  Do  with  a  Million 

Is  Mankind  Progressing? 
Our  Greatest  Need. 





Oh,  there  is  something  in  that  voice  that  reaches 
The  innermost  recesses  of  my  spirit! 

— Longfellow,  Christus. 

Tlie  dramatic  critic  of  The  London  Times  once  declared 
that  acting  is  nine-tenths  voice  work.  Leaving  the 
message  aside,  the  same  may  justly  be  said  of  public 
speaking.  A  rich,  correctly-used  voice  is  the  greatest 
physical  factor  of  persuasiveness  and  power,  often  over- 
tc^ping  the  effects  of  reason. 

But  a  good  voice,  well  handled,  is  not  only  an  effective 
possession  for  the  professional  speaker,  it  is  a  mark  of  per- 
sonal culture  as  well,  and  even  a  distinct  conmierdal 
asset.  Gladstone,  himself  the  possessor  of  a  deep,  musi- 
cal voice,  has  said:  "Ninety  men  in  every  hundred  in  the 
crowded  professions  will  probably  never  rise  above  medi- 
ocrity because  the  training  of  the  voice  is  entirely  n^lected 
and  considered  of  no  importance."  These  are  words  worth 

There  are  three  fundamental  requisites  for  a  good  voice: 

I.  Ease 

Signor  Bond  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  Company  says 
that  the  secret  of  good  voice  is  relaxation;  and  this  is  true, 
for  relaxation  is  the  basis  of  ease.  The  air  waves  that  pro- 
duce voice  result  in  a  different  kind  of  tone  when  striking 

THE  VOICE  125 

against  relaxed  muscles  than  when  striking  constricted 
muscles.  Try  this  for  yourself.  Contract  the  muscles  of 
your  face  and  throat  as  you  do  in  hate,  and  flame  out  "I 
hate  you!"  Now  relax  as  you  do  when  thinking  gentle, 
tender  thoughts,  and  say,  "I  love  you."  How  different 
the  voice  sounds. 

In  practising  voice  exercises,  and  in  speaking,  never 
force  your  tones.  Ease  must  be  your  watchword.  The 
voice  is  a  delicate  instrument,  and  you  must  not  handle  it 
with  hammer  and  tongs.  Don't  make  your  voice  go — let 
it  go.  Don't  work.  Let  the  yoke  of  speech  be  easy  and 
its  burden  light. 

Your  throat  should  be  free  from  strain  during  speech, 
therefore  it  is  necessary  to  avoid  muscular  contraction. 
The  throat  must  act  as  a  sort  of  chimney  or  funnel  for  the 
voice,  hence  any  unnatural  constriction  will  not  only  harm 
its  tones  but  injure  its  health. 

Nervousness  and  mental  strain  are  common  sources 
of  mouth  and  throat  constriction,  so  make  the  battle  for 
poise  and  self-confidence  for  which  we  pleaded  in  the 
opening  chapter. 

But  how  can  I  relax?  you  ask.  By  simply  willing  to 
relax.  Hold  your  arm  out  straight  from  your  shoulder. 
Now — ^vrfthdraw  all  power  ^d  let  it  fall.  Practise  re- 
laxation of  the  miiscles  of  the  throat  by  letting  your  neck 
and  head  fall  forward.  Roll  the  upper  part  of  your  body 
aroimd,  with  the  waist  Une  acting  as  a  pivot.  Let  your 
head  fall  and  roll  around  as  you  shift  the  torso  to  different 
positions.  Do  not  force  your  head  around — simply  relax 
your  neck  and  let  gravitypull  itaround  as  your  body  moves. 



Again,  let  your  head  fall  forward  on  your  breast;  raise 
your  head,  letting  your  jaw  hang.  Relax  until  your  jaw 
feels  heavy,  as  though  it  were  a  weight  hung  to  your  face. 
Remember,  you  must  relax  the  jaw  to  obtain  command  of 
it.  It  must  be  free  and  flexible  for  the  moulding  of  tone, 
and  to  let  the  tone  pass  out  imobstructed. 

The  lips  also  must  be  made  flexible,  to  aid  in  the  mould- 
ing of  clear  and  beautiful  tones.  For  flexibility  of  lips 
repeat  the  syllables,  mo — me.  In  saying  mo,  bring  the 
lips  up  to  resemble  the  shape  of  the  letter  O.  In  rq>eating 
me,  draw  them  back  as  you  do  in  a  grin.  Repeat  this  ex- 
ercise rapidly,  giving  the  lips  as  much  exercise  as  possible. 

Try  the  following  exercise  in  the  same  manner: 

Mo— E^-0— E— 00— Ah. 

After  this  exercise  has  been  mastered,  the  following 
will  also  be  foimd  excellent  for  flexibility  of  lips: 

Memorize  these  sounds  indicated  (not  the  expressions) 
so  that  you  can  repeat  them  rapidly. 

A  as  in 


E  as 

A     " 


I      " 

A     " 


I      " 

0    " 


0     " 

A     " 


00  " 

E     " 


00  " 






U  as  in  Use. 
Oi    "     Ofl. 

Ou  " 
00  " 
A  " 



All  the  activity  of  breathing  must  be  centered,  not  in 
the  throat,  but  in  the  middle  of  the  body— you  must 
breathe  from  the  diaphragm.    Note  the  way  you  breathe 

THE  VOICE  127 

when  lying  fiat  on  the  back,  undressed  in  bed.  You  will 
observe  that  all  the  activity  then  centers  around  the  dia- 
phragm. This  is  the  natural  and  correct  method  of 
breathing.  By  constant  watchfulness  make  this  your 
habitual  manner,  for  it  will  enable  you  to  relax  more  per- 
fectly the  muscles  of  the  throat. 
The  next  fundamental  requisite  for  good  voice  is 

2.  Openness 

If  the  muscles  of  the  throat  are  constricted,  the  tone 
passage  partially  closed,  and  the  mouth  kept  half-shut, 
how  can  you  expect  the  tone  to  come  out  bright  and  clear, 
or  even  to  come  out  at  all?  Sound  is  a  series  of  waves, 
and  if  you  make  a  prison  of  your  mouth,  holding  the  jaws 
and  lips  rigidly,  it  wiU  be  very  difficult  for  the  tone  to 
squeeze  through,  and  even  when  it  does  escape  it  will  lack 
force  and  carrying  power.  Open  your  mouth  wide,  relax 
all  the  organs  of  speech,  and  let  the  tone  flow  out  easily. 

Start  to  yawn,  but  instead  of  yawning,  speak  wlule  your 
throat  is  open.  Make  this  open-feeling  habitual  when 
speaking — ^we  say  make  because  it  is  a  matter  of  resolu- 
tion and  of  practise,  if  your  vocal  organs  are  healthy. 
Your  tone  passages  may  be  partly  closed  by  enlarged  ton- 
sils, adenoids,  or  enlarged  turbinate  bones  of  the  nose. 
If  so,  a  skilled  physician  should  be  consulted. 

Tlie  nose  is  an  important  tone  passage  and  should  be 
k^t  open  and  free  for  perfect  tones.  What  we  call  "talk- 
ing through  the  nose"  is  not  talking  through  the  nose,  as 
you  can  easily  d#nonstrate  by  holding  your  nose  as  you 


talk.  If  you  are  bothered  with  nasal  tones  caused  by 
growths  or  swellings  in  the  nasal  passages,  a  slight,  pain- 
less operation  will  remove  the  obstruction.  This  is  quite 
important,  aside  from  voice,  for  the  general  health  will  be 
much  lowered  if  the  lungs  are  continually  starved  for  air. 
The  final  fundamental  requisite  for  good  voice  is 

J.  Forwardness 

A  voice  that  is  pitched  back  in  the  throat  is  dark,  som- 
bre, and  unattractive.  The  tone  must  be  pitched  forward, 
but  do  not  force  it  forward.  You  will  recall  that  our  first 
principle  was  ease.  Think  the  tone  forward  and  out  Be- 
lieve it  is  going  forward,  and  allow  it  to  flow  easily.  You 
can  tell  whether  you  are  placing  your  tone  forward  or  not 
by  inVialing  a  deep  breath  and  singing  ah  with  the  mouth 
wide  open,  trying  to  fed  the  little  delicate  sound  waves 
strike  the  bony  arch  of  the  mouth  just  above  the  front 
teeth.  The  sensation  is  so  slight  that  you  will  probably 
not  be  able  to  detect  it  at  once,  but  persevere  in  yoxxr  prac- 
tise, always  thinlring  the  tone  forward,  and  you  will  be 
rewarded  by  feeling  your  voice  strike  the  roof  of  3rour 
mouth.  A  correct  forward-placing  of  the  tone  will  do 
away  with  the  dark,  throaty  tones  that  are  so  unpleasant, 
inefficient,  and  harmful  to  the  throat. 

Close  the  lips,  hunmiing  n;,  im;  or  an.  Think  the  tone 
forward.    Do  you  fed  it  strike  the  lips? 

Hold  the  palm  of  your  hand  in  front  of  your  face  and  say 
vigorously  crash,  dash,  whirl,  buzz.  Can  you  fed  the  for- 
ward tones  strike  against  your  hand?    Practise  until  you 

THE  VOICE  129 

can.    Remember,  the  only  way  to  get  your  voice  for- 
ward is  to  put  it  forward. 

How  to  Develop  the  Carrying  Power  of  the  Voice 

It  is  not  necessary  to  speak  loudly  in  order  to  be  heard 
at  a  distance.  It  is  necessary  only  to  speak  correctly. 
Edith  W3mne  Matthison's  voice  will  carry  in  a  whisper 
throughout  a  large  theater.  A  paper  rustling  on  the  stage 
of  a  large  auditorium  can  be  heard  distinctly  in  the  further- 
most seat  in  the  gallery.  If  you  will  only  use  your  voice 
correctly,  you  will  not  have  much  difficulty  in  being  heard. 
Of  course  it  is  always  well  to  address  your  speech  to  your 
furthest  auditors;  if  they  get  it,  those  nearer  will  have 
no  trouble,  but  aside  from  this  obvious  suggestion,  you 
must  observe  these  laws  of  voice  production: 

Remember  to  apply  the  principles  of  ease,  openness  and 
forwardness — ^they  are  the  prime  factors  in  enabling  your 
voice  to  be  heard  at  a  distance. 

Do  not  gaze  at  the  floor  as  you  talk.  This  habit  not 
only  gives  the  speaker  an  amateurish  appearance  but  if  the 
head  is  hung  forward  the  voice  will  be  directed  towards  the 
ground  instead  of  floating  out  over  the  audience. 

Voice  is  a  series  of  air  vibrations.  To  strengthen  it 
two  things  are  necessary:  more  air  or  breath,  and  more 

Breath  is  the  very  basis  of  voice.  As  a  bullet  mth  little 
powder  behind  it  will  not  have  force  and  carr3dng  power, 
so  the  voice  that  has  little  breath  behind  it  will  be  weak. 
Not  only  will  deep  breathing — breathing  from  the  dia- 


phragm — give  the  voice  a  better  support,  but  it  will  give 
it  a  stronger  resonance  by  improving  the  general  health. 

Usually,  ill  health  means  a  weak  voice,  while  abundant 
physical  vitality  is  shown  through  a  strong,  vibrant  voice. 
Therefore  anything  that  improves  the  general  vitality  is 
an  excellent  voice  strengthener,  provided  you  use  the  voice 
properly.  Authorities  differ  on  most  of  the  rules  of  hy- 
giene but  on  one  point  they  all  agree:  vitality  and  longevity 
are  increased  by  deep  breathing.  Practise  this  until  it 
becomes  second  nature.  Whenever  you  are  speaking, 
take  in  deep  breaths,  but  in  such  a  manner  that  the  in- 
halations will  be  silent. 

Do  not  try  to  speak  too  long  without  renewing  your 
breath.  Nature  cares  for  this  pretty  well  unconsciously  in 
conversation,  and  she  will  do  the  same  for  you  in  platform 
speaking  if  you  do  not  interfere  with  her  premonitions. 

A  certain  very  successful  speaker  developed  voice  carry- 
ing power  by  running  across  country,  practising  his 
speeches  as  he  went.  The  vigorous  exercise  forced  him 
to  take  deep  breaths,  and  developed  limg  power.  A  hard- 
fought  basketball  or  tennis  game  is  an  efficient  way  of 
practising  deep  breathing.  When  these  methods  are  not 
convenient,  we  recommend  the  following: 

Place  your  hands  at  your  sides,  on  the  waist  line. 

By  tr3ang  to  encompass  your  waist  with  your  fingers 
and  thumbs,  force  all  the  air  out  of  the  lungs. 

Take  a  deep  breath.  Remember,  all  the  activity  is  to 
be  centered  in  the  middle  of  the  body;  do  not  raise  the 
shoulders.  As  the  breath  is  taken  your  hands  will  be 
forced  out. 


Repeat  the  exerdse,  placing  your  hands  on  the  small 
of  the  back  and  forcing  them  out  as  you  inhale. 

Many  methods  for  deep  breathing  have  been  given  by 
various  authorities.  Get  the  air  into  your  lungs — ^that  is 
the  important  thing. 

The  body  acts  as  a  sounding  board  for  the  voice  just 
as  the  body  of  the  violin  acts  as  a  sounding  board  for  its 
tones.    You  can  increase  its  vibrations  by  practise. 

Place  your  finger  on  your  lip  and  hum  the  musical  scale, 
thinking  and  placing  the  voice  forward  on  the  lips.  Do 
you  fed  the  lips  vibrate?  After  a  little  practise  they  will 
vibrate,  giving  a  tickling  sensation. 

Repeat  this  ezerdse,  throwing  the  humming  sound  into 
the  nose.  Hold  the  upper  part  of  the  nose  between  the 
thumb  and  forefinger.     Can  you  fed  the  nose  vibrate? 

Placing  the  palm  of  your  hand  on  top  of  your  head,  re- 
peat this  hiunming  exercise.  Think  the  voice  there  as  you 
hum  in  head  tones.    Can  you  feel  the  vibration  there? 

Now  place  the  palm  of  your  hand  on  the  back  of  your 
head,  repeating  the  foregoing  process.  Then  try  it  on  the 
chest.  Always  remember  to  think  your  tone  where  you 
desire  to  fed  the  vibrations.  The  mere  act  of  thinking 
about  any  portion  of  your  body  will  tend  to  make  it 

Repeat  the  foUovnng,  after  a  deep  inhalation,  endeavor- 
ing to  fed  all  portions  of  your  body  vibrate  at  the  same 
time.  When  you  have  attained  this  you  will  find  that  it 
is  a  pleasant  sensation. 

What  ho,  my  jovial  mates.  Come  on!  We  will  frolic  it  like 
fairies,  frisking  in  the  merry  moonshine. 


PurUy  of  Voice 

This  qtiality  is  sometimes  destroyed  by  wasting  the 
breath.  Carefully  control  the  breath,  using  only  as  much 
as  is  necessary  for  the  production  of  tone.  Utilize  all  that 
you  give  out.  Failure  to  do  this  results  in  a  breathy  tone. 
Take  in  breath  like  a  prodigal;  in  speaking,  give  it  out 
like  a  miser. 

Voice  Suggestions 

Never  attempt  to  force  your  voice  when  hoarse. 

Do  not  drink  cold  water  when  speaking.  The  sudden 
shock  to  the  heated  organs  of  speech  will  injure  the  voice. 

Avoid  pitching  your  voice  too  high — it  will  make  it 
raspy.  This  is  a  common  fault.  When  you  find  your 
voice  in  too  high  a  range,  lower  it.  Do  not  wait  until  you 
get  to  the  platform  to  try  this.  Practise  it  in  your  daily 
conversation.  Repeat  the  alphabet,  beginning  A  on  the 
lowest  scale  possible  and  going  up  a  note  on  each  suc- 
ceeding letter,  for  the  development  of  range.  A  wide  range 
will  give  you  facility  in  making  numerous  changes  of 

Do  not  form  the  habit  of  listening  to  your  voice  when 
speaking.  You  will  need  your  brain  to  think  of  what  you 
are  saying — ^reserve  your  observation  for  private  practise. 


1.  What  are  the  prime  requisites  for  good  voice? 

2.  Tell  why  each  one  is  necessary  for  good  voice  pro- 

THE   VOICE  133 

3.  Give  some  exercises  for  devdopment  of  these  con- 

4.  Why  is  range  of  voice  desirable? 

5.  Tell  how  range  of  voice  may  be  cultivated 

6.  How  much  daily  practise  do  you  consider  necessary 
for  the  proper  development  of  your  voice? 

7.  How  can  resonance  and  carrying  power  be  de- 

8.  What  are  your  voice  faults? 

9.  How  are  you  trying  to  correct  them? 



A  cheerful  temper  joined  with  innocenoe  will  make  beaut7 
attractive,  knowledge  deUghtfuI,  and  wit  good-natured. 

JOSEPH  Addison,  The  TaMer. 

Poe  said  that  "the  tone  of  beauty  b  sadness/'  but  he 
was  evidently  thinking  from  cause  to  effect,  not  con- 
trariwise, for  sadness  is  rarely  a  producer  of  beauty — 
that  is  peculiarly  the  province  of  joy. 

The  exquisite  beauty  of  a  sunset  is  not  exhilarating  but 
tends  to  a  sort  of  melancholy  that  is  not  far  from  delight. 
The  haunting  beauty  of  deep,  quiet  music  holds  more  than 
a  tinge  of  sadness.  The  lovely  minor  cadences  of  bird 
song  at  twilight  are  almost  depressing. 

The  reason  we  are  affected  to  sadness  by  certain  forms 
of  pladd  beauty  is  twofold:  movement  is  stimulating  and 
joy-producing,  while  quietude  leads  to  reflection,  and  re- 
flection in  turn  often  brings  out  the  tone  of  r^retful 
longing  for  that  which  is  past;  secondly,  quiet  beauty 
produces  a  vague  aspiration  for  the  relatively  unattain- 
able, yet  does  not  stimulate  to  the  tremendous  effort 
necessary  to  make  the  dimly  desired  state  or  object  ours. 

We  must  distinguish,  for  these  reasons,  between  the 
sadness  of  beauty  and  the  joy  of  beauty.  True,  joy  is  a 
deep,  inner  thing  and  takes  in  much  more  than  the  idea 
of  bounding,  sanguine  spirits,  for  it  includes  a  certain 
active  contentedness  of  heart.    In  this  chapter,  however, 


the  word  will  have  its  optimistic,  exuberant  connotation — 
we  are  thinking  now  of  vivid,  bright-eyed,  laughing  joy. 
Musical,  joyous  tones  constitute  voice  charm,  a  sub- 
tie  magnetism  that  is  delightfully  contagious.  Now  it 
might  seem  to  the  desultory  reader  that  to  take  the  lancet 
and  cut  into  this  alluring  voice  quality  would  be  to  dissect 
a  butterfly  wing  and  so  destroy  its  charm.  Yet  how  can 
we  induce  an  effect  if  we  are  not  certain  as  to  the  cause? 

Nasal  Resonance  Produces  the  Bdl-Umes  of  the  Voice 

The  tone  passages  of  the  nose  must  be  kept  entirely 
free  for  the  bright  tones  of  voice — and  after  our  warning 
in  the  preceding  chapter  you  will  not  confuse  what  is 
popularly  and  erroneously  called  a  ''nasal"  tone  with  the 
true  nasal  quaMty,  which  is  so  well  illustrated  by  the 
voice  work  of  trained  French  singers  and  speakers. 

To  develop  nasal  resonance  sing  the  following,  dwelling 
as  long  as  possible  on  the  ng  sounds.  Pitch  the  voice  in 
the  nasal  cavity.  Practise  both  in  high  and  low  regis- 
ters, and  develop  range— tw<A  brightness. 

Sing-song.    Ding-dong.    Hong-kong.    Long-thong. 

Practise  in  the  falsetto  voice  develops  a  bright  quaUty 
in  the  normal  speaking-voice.  Try  the  following,  and 
any  other  selections  you  choose,  in  a  falsetto  voice.  A 
man's  falsetto  voice  is  extremely  high  and  womanish, 
so  men  should  not  practise  in  falsetto  after  the  exercise 
becomes  tiresome. 

She  perfectly  scorned  the  best  of  his  dan,  and  declared  the 
ninth  of  any  man,  a  perfectly  vulgar  fraction. 



The  actress  Mary  Anderson  asked  the  poet  Long- 
fellow what  she  could  do  to  improve  her  voice.  He  re- 
plied, ^'Read  aloud  daily,  joyous,  l3nic  poetry." 

The  joyous  tones  are  the  bright  tones.  Develop  them 
by  exercise.  Practise  your  voice  exercises  in  an  attitude 
of  joy.  Under  the  influence  of  pleasure  the  body  expands, 
the  tone  passages  open,  the  action  of  heart  and  lungs  is 
accelerated,  and  all  the  primary  conditions  for  good  tone 
are  established. 

More  songs  float  out  from  the  broken  windows  of  the 
n^ro  cabins  in  the  South  than  from  the  palatial  homes 
on  Fifth  Avenue.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  said  the  lum- 
piest days  of  his  life  were  not  when  he  had  become  an 
international  character,  but  when  he  was  an  unknown 
minister  out  in  Lawrenceville,  Ohio,  sweeping  his  own 
church,  and  working  as  a  carpenter  to  help  pay  the 
grocer.  Happiness  is  largely  an  attitude  of  mind,  of  view- 
ing life  from  the  right  angle.  The  optimistic  attitude  can 
be  cultivated,  and  it  will  express  itself  in  voice  charm. 
A  telephone  company  recently  placarded  this  motto  in 
their  booths:  "The  Voice  with  the  Smile  Wins."  It 
does.    Try  it. 

Reading  joyous  prose,  or  lyric  poetry,  will  help  put 
smile  and  joy  of  soul  into  your  voice.  The  following  selec- 
tions are  excellent  for  practise. 

REMEMBER  that  when  you  first  practise  these  classics 
you  are  to  give  sole  attention  to  two  things:  a  joyous 
attitude  of  heart  and  body,  and  bright  tones  of  voice. 
After  these  ends  have  been  attained  to  your  satisfaction, 
carefidly  review  the  principles  of  pubUc  speaking  laid 




down  in  the  preceding  chapters  and  put  them  into  practise 
as  you  read  these  passages  again  and  again.  //  would  be 
better  to  commit  each  selection  to  memory. 



Haste  thee,  N3rmph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest,  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips  and  Cranks  and  wanton  Wiles, 
Nods  and  Becks,  and  wreathM  Smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek, — 
Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 

Come,  and  trip  it  as  ye  go 

On  the  light  fantastic  toe; 

And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee 

The  moimtain  nymph,  sweet  Liberty: 

And,  if  I  give  thee  honor  due, 

Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew. 

To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee, 

In  unreprovM  pleasures  free; 

To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight. 
And  singing,  startle  the  dull  Night 
Prom  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies. 
Tin  the  dappled  Dawn  doth  rise; 
Then  to  come  in  spite  of  sorrow. 
And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow 
Through  the  sweetbrier,  or  the  vine. 
Or  the  twisted  ^lantine; 
While  the  cock  with  lively  din 
Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin. 
And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door. 
Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before; 


Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 
Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  Mom, 
Prom  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill, 
Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill; 
Sometime  walking,  not  unseen, 
By  hedge-row  elms,  on  hillocks  green. 
Right  against  the  eastern  gate, 
Where  the  great  Sun  b^^  his  state, 
Robed  in  flames  and  amber  light. 
The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight, 
While  the  plowman  near  at  hand 
Whistles  o'er  the  furrowed  land, 
And  the  milkmaid  singing  blithe, 
And  the  mower  whets  his  scjrthe. 
And  every  shepherd  teUs  his  tale, 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 


The  sea,  the  sea,  the  open  sea. 

The  blue,  the  fresh,  the  ever  free; 

Without  a  mark,  without  a  bound. 

It  runneth  the  earth's  wide  r^ons  round; 

It  plays  with  the  clouds,  it  mocks  the  skies, 

Or  like  a  cradled  creature  lies. 

I'm  on  the  sea,  I'm  on  the  sea, 

I  am  where  I  would  ever  be, 

With  the  blue  above  and  the  blue  below. 

And  silence  wheresoe'er  I  go. 

If  a  storm  should  come  and  awake  the  deep, 

What  matter?    I  shall  ride  and  sleep. 

I  love,  oh!  how  I  love  to  ride 
On  the  fierce,  foaming,  bursting  tide. 
Where  every  mad  wave  drowns  the  moon. 
And  whistles  aloft  its  tempest  tune. 
And  tells  how  goeth  the  world  below. 
And  why  the  southwest  wind  doth  blow! 
I  never  was  on  the  dull,  tame  shore 


But  I  loved  the  great  sea  more  and  more, 
And  backward  flew  to  her  billowy  breast, 
Like  a  bird  that  seeketh  her  mother's  nest, — 
And  a  mother  she  was  and  is  to  me, 
For  I  was  bom  on  the  open  sea. 

The  waves  were  white,  and  red  the  mom. 
In  the  noisy  hour  when  I  was  bom; 
The  whale  it  whistled,  the  porpoise  rolled, 
And  the  dolphins  bared  their  backs  of  gold; 
And  never  was  heard  such  an  outcry  wild, 
As  welcomed  to  life  the  ocean  child. 
I  have  lived,  since  then,  in  calm  and  strife, 
Pull  fifty  summers  a  rover's  life. 
With  wealth  to  spend,  and  a  power  to  range, 
But  never  have  sought  or  sighed  for  change: 
And  death,  whenever  he  comes  to  me. 
Shall  come  on  the  wide,  unbounded  sea! 

— ^Barrt  Cornwall. 

Thb  sun  does  not  shine  for  a  few  trees  and  flowers,  but  for  the 
wide  world's  joy.  The  lonely  pine  upon  the  mountain-top  waves 
its  sombre  boughs,  and  cries,  "  Thou  art  my  stm."  And  the  little 
meadow  violet  lifts  its  cup  of  blue,  and  whispers  with  its  perfumed 
breath,  "Thou  art  my  sun."  And  the  grain  in  a  thousand  fields 
rustles  in  the  wind,  and  makes  answer,  ''Thou  art  my  sun." 
And  so  God  sits  effulgent  in  Heaven,  not  for  a  favored  few,  but 
for  the  universe  of  life;  and  there  is  no  creature  so  poor  or  so  low 
that  he  may  not  look  up  with  child-like  confidence  and  say,  "  My 
Patherl  Thou  art  mine." — ^Hbnry  Ward  Beechbr. 


Bird  of  the  wilderness, 

Blithesome  and  cumberless, 
Sweet  be  thy  matin  o'er  moorland  and  lea! 

Emblem  of  happiness. 

Blest  is  thy  dwelling-place: 
Oh,  to  abide  in  the  desert  with  thee! 


Wild  is  thy  lay,  and  loud, 

Par  in  the  downy  doud, — 
Love  gives  it  energy;  love  gave  it  birth. 

Where,  on  thy  dewy  wing 

Where  art  thou  joume3nng? 
Thy  lay  is  in  heaven ;  thy  love  is  on  earth. 

O'er  fell  and  fountain  sheen, 

O'er  moor  and  mountain  green, 
O'er  the  red  streamer  that  heralds  the  day; 

Over  the  cloudlet  dim, 

Over  the  rainbow's  rim, 
Musical  cherub,  soar,  singing,  away! 

Then,  when  the  gloaming  comes. 

Low  in  the  heather  blooms, 
Sweet  will  thy  welcome  and  bed  of  love  be! 

Emblem  of  happiness. 

Blest  is  thy  dwelling-place. 
Oh,  to  abide  in  the  desert  with  thee! 

— ^Jambs  Hogg. 

In  joyous  conversation  there  is  an  elastic  touch,  a  deli- 
cate stroke,  upon  the  central  ideas,  generally  following 
a  pause.  This  elastic  touch  adds  vivacity  to  the  voice. 
If  you  try  repeatedly,  it  can  be  sensed  by  feeling  the  tongue 
strike  the  teeth.  The  entire  absence  of  elastic  touch  in 
the  voice  can  be  observed  in  the  thick  tongue  of  the  in- 
toxicated man.  Try  to  talk  with  the  tongue  lying  still 
in  the  bottom  of  the  mouth,  and  you  will  obtain  laigdy 
the  same  effect.  Vivacity  of  utterance  is  gained  by  using 
the  tongue  to  strike  off  the  emphatic  idea  with  a  de- 
cisive, elastic  touch. 

Deliver  the  following  with  decisive  strokes  on  tlie 
emphatic  ideas.  Deliver  it  in  a  vivacious  manner, 
noting  the  elastic  touch-action  of  the  tongue.    A  flexible, 


responsive  tongue  is  absolutely  essential  to  good  voice 



What  have  you  done  with  that  brilliant  Prance  which  I  left 
you?  I  left  you  at  peace,  and  I  find  you  at  war.  I  left  you 
victorious,  and  I  find  you  defeated.  I  left  you  the  millions  of 
Italy,  and  I  find  only  spoliation  and  poverty.  What  have  you 
done  with  the  hundred  thousand  Frenchmen,  my  companions 
in  glory?  They  are  dead!  .  .  .  This  state  of  affairs  cannot 
last  long;  in  less  than  three  years  it  would  plunge  us  into  des- 

Practise  the  following  selection,  for  the  development 
of  elastic  touch;  say  it  in  a  joyous  spirit,  using  the  exer- 
cise to  develop  voice  charm  in  all  the  ways  suggested  in 
this  chapter. 


I  come  from  haimts  of  coot  and  hem, 

I  make  a  sudden  sally, 
And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 

To  bicker  down  a  valley. 

By  thirty  hills  I  hurry  down, 

Or  slip  between  the  ridges; 
By  twenty  thorps,  a  little  town, 

And  half  a  hundred  bridges. 

TiU  last  by  Philip's  farm  I  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river; 
For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go, 

But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  chatter  over  stony  ways, 
In  Uttle  sharps  and  trebles. 


I  bubble  into  eddying  bays, 
I  babble  on  the  pebbles. 

With  many  a  curve  my  banks  I  fret, 
By  many  a  field  and  fallow, 

And  many  a  fairy  foreland  set 

With  willow-weed  and  mallow. 

I  chatter,  chatter,  as  I  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river; 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  wind  about,  and  in  and  out. 
With  here  a  blossom  sailing, 

And  here  and  there  a  lusty  trout. 
And  here  and  there  a  grayling. 

And  here  and  there  a  foamy  flake 
Upon  me,  as  I  travel. 

With  many  a  silvery  water-break 
Above  the  golden  gravel. 

And  draw  them  all  along,  and  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river. 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go. 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  steal  by  lawns  and  grassy  plots, 
I  slide  by  hazel  covers, 

I  move  the  sweet  forget-me-nots 
That  grow  for  happy  lovers. 

I  slip,  I  slide,  I  gloom,  I  glance. 
Among  my  skimming  swallows; 

I  make  the  netted  sunbeam  dance 
Against  my  sandy  shallows. 

I  mtumur  under  moon  and  stars 
In  brambly  wildernesses. 


I  linger  by  my  shingly  bars, 
I  loiter  round  my  cresses. 

And  out  again  I  curve  and  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river; 
For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go, 

But  I  go  on  forever. 

— ^Alfred  Tennyson. 

The  children  at  play  on  the  street,  glad  from  sheer 
physical  vitaUty,  display  a  resonance  and  charm  in  their 
voices  quite  different  from  the  voices  that  float  through 
the  silent  halls  of  the  hospitals.  A  skilled  physician  can 
tell  much  about  his  patient's  condition  from  the  mere 
sound  of  the  voice.  Failing  health,  or  even  physical 
weariness,  tells  through  the  voice.  It  is  alwa3rs  well  to  rest 
and  be  entirely  refreshed  before  attempting  to  deUver  a 
public  address.  As  to  health,  neither  scope  nor  space 
permits  us  to  discuss  here  the  laws  of  hygiene.  There  are 
many  excellent  books  on  this  subject.  In  the  reign  of  the 
Roman  emperor  Tiberius,  one  senator  wrote  to  another: 
'*To  the  wise,  a  word  is  suflident." 

''The  apparel  oft  proclaims  the  man;"  the  voice  al- 
ways does — it  is  one  of  the  greatest  revealers  of  character. 
The  superficial  woman,  the  brutish  man,  the  reprobate, 
the  person  of  culture,  often  discloses  inner  nature  in  the 
voice,  for  even  the  cleverest  dissembler  cannot  entirely 
prevent  its  tones  and  qualities  being  affected  by  the 
slightest  change  of  thought  or  emotion.  In  anger  it  be- 
comes high,  harsh,  and  unpleasant;  in  love  low,  soft,  and 
melodious — ^the  variations  are  as  limitless  as  they  are 
fascinating  to  observe.    Visit  a  theatrical  hotel  in  a  large 


dty,  and  listen  to  the  buzz-saw  voices  of  the  chorus  giris 
from  some  burlesque  ''attraction."  The  explanation  is 
simple — ^buzz-saw  lives.  Emerson  said:  "When  a  man 
lives  with  God  his  voice  shall  be  as  sweet  as  the  murmur 
of  the  brook  or  the  rustle  of  the  com."  It  is  impossible 
to  ;^think  selfish  thoughts  and  have  either  an  attractive 
personality,  a  lovely  character,  or  a  charming  voice.  If 
you  want  to  possess  voice  charm,  cultivate  a  deep,  sincere 
sympathy  for  mankind.  Love  will  shine  out  through  your 
eyes  and  proclaim  itself  in  your  tones.  One  secret  of 
the  sweetness  of  the  canary's  song  may  be  his  freedom  from 
tainted  thoughts.  Your  character  beautifies  or  mars 
your  voice.   As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart  so  is  his  voice. 


I.    Define  (a)  charm;  (fi)  joy;  (c)  beauty. 
3.    Make  a  list  of  all  the  words  related  to  j0y. 

3.  Write  a  three-minute  eulogy  of  "The  Joyful  Man." 

4.  Deliver  it  without  the  use  of  notes.  Have  you  care- 
fully considered  all  the  qualities  that  go  to  make  up 
voice-charm  in  its  delivery? 

5.  Tell  briefly  in  your  own  words  what  means  may  be 
employed  to  develop  a  charming  voice. 

6.  Discuss  the  effect  of  voice  on  character. 

7.  Discuss  the  effect  of  character  on  voice. 

8.  Analyze  the  voice  charm  of  any  speaker  or  singer 
you  choose. 

9.  Analyze  the  defects  of  any  given  voice. 

10.  Make  a  short  himiorous  speech  imitating  certain 
voice  defects,  pointing  out  reasons. 


II*    Commit  the  following  stanza  and  interpret  each 
phase]|of  Jdeiight  stiggested  or  expressed  by  the  poet. 

An  infant  when  it  gazes  on  a  light, 

A  child  the  moment  when  it  drains  the  breast, 

A  devotee  when  soars  the  Host  in  sight, 
An  Arab  with  a  stranger  foe  a  guest, 

A  sailor  when  the  prize  has  struck  in  fight, 
A  miser  filling  his  most  hoarded  chest, 

Peel  rapture;  but  not  such  true  joy  are  reaping 

As  they  who  watch  o'er  what  they  love  while 

— ^Byron,  Don  Juan. 



In  man  speaks  God. 

— Hbsiod,  Words  and  Days. 

And  endless  are  the  modes  of  speech,  and  far 
Extends  from  side  to  side  the  field  of  words. 

— HoifBR,  Iliad. 

In  popular  usage  the  terms  '^ pronunciation/'  "enun- 
ciation," and  '^ articulation"  are  s3monymous,  but  real 
pronunciation  includes  three  distinct  processes,  and  may 
therefore  be  defined  as,  ^he  uUerance  of  a  syllable  or  a 
group  of  syllables  with  regard  to  arliculatioHy  accentuaUon^ 
and  enunciation. 

Distinct  and  precise  utterance  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant considerations  of  public  speech.  How  preposter- 
ous it  is  to  hear  a  speaker  making  sounds  of  "inarticulate 
earnestness"  under  the  contented  delusion  that  he  is 
telling  something  to  his  audience!  Telling?  Telling 
means  communicating,  and  how  can  he  actually  com- 
municate without  making  every  word  distinct? 

Slovenly  pronunciation  results  from  either  physical 
deformity  or  habit.  A  surgeon  or  a  surgeon  dentist  may 
correct  a  deformity,  but  yoiu*  own  will,  working  by  self- 
observation  and  resolution  in  drill,  will  break  a  habit. 
All  depends  upon  whether  you  think  it  worth  while. 

Defective  speech  is  so  wide^read  that  freedom  from 
it  is  the  exception.    It  is  painfully  common  to  hear  pubUc 


speakers  mutilate  the  king's  English.  If  they  do  not 
actually  murder  it,  as  Curran  once  said,  they  often  knock 
an  i  out. 

A  Canadian  clergyman,  writing  in  the  HomUetic  Review, 
relates  that  in  his  student  days  ''a  classmate  who  was  an 
Englishman  supplied  a  country  church  for  a  Sunday.  On 
the  following  Monday  he  conducted  a  missionary  meeting. 
In  the  course  of  his  address  he  said  some  farmers  thought 
they  were  doing  their  duty  toward  missions  when  they 
gave  their  'hodds  and  hends'  to  the  work,  but  the  Lord 
required  more.  At  the  close  of  the  meeting  a  young  woman 
seriously  said  to  a  friend:  'I  am  sure  the  farmers  do  well 
if  they  give  their  hogs  and  hens  to  missions.  It  is  more 
than  most  people  can  afford.'  " 

It  is  insufferable  effrontery  for  any  man  to  appear  be- 
fore an  audience  who  persists  in  driving  the  h  out  of  hap- 
piness, home  and  heaven,  and,  to  paraphrase  Waldo 
Messaros,  will  not  let  it  rest  in  hell.  He  who  does  not 
show  enough  self-knowledge  to  see  in  himself  such  glaring 
faults,  nor  enough  self-mastery  to  correct  them,  has  no 
business  to  instruct  others.  If  he  can  do  no  better,  he 
should  be  silent.  If  he  wiU  do  no  better,  he  should  also 
be  sUent. 

Barring  incurable  physical  defects — ^and  few  are  in- 
curable nowadays — the  whole  matter  is  one  of  will.  The 
catalogue  of  those  who  have  done  the  impossible  by 
faithful  work  is  as  inspiring  as  a  roll-call  of  warriors. 
The  less  there  is  of  you,"  sa)rs  Nathan  Sheppard,  "the 
more  need  for  you  to  make  the  most  of  what  there  is 
of  you." 



Articulation  is  the  forming  and  joining  of  the  elementary 
soimds  of  speech.  It  seems  an  appallii^  task  to  utter 
articulately  the  third-of-a  million  words  that  go  to  make 
up  our  English  vocabulary,  but  the  way  to  make  a  be- 
ginning is  really  simple:  learn  to  uUer  correctly ,  and  with 
easy  change  from  one  to  the  other,  each  of  the  forty-four 
elementary  sounds  in  our  language. 

The  reasons  why  articidation  is  so  painfully  slurred  by 
a  great  many  public  speakers  are  four:  ignorance  of 
the  elemental  sounds;  failure  to  discriminate  between 
sounds  nearly  alike;  a  slovenly,  lazy  use  of  the  vocal 
organs;  and  a  torpid  will.  Anyone  who  is  still  master 
of  himself  will  know  how  to  handle  each  of  these 

The  vowel  sounds  are  the  most  vexing  source  of  errors, 
especially  where  diphthongs  are  found.  Who  has  not 
heard  such  errors  as  are  hit  off  in  this  inimitable  verse  by 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes: 

Learning  condemns  beyond  the  reach  of  hope 
The  careless  lips  that  si>eak  of  sdap  for  soap; 
Her  edict  exiles  from  her  fair  abode 
The  clownish  voice  that  utters  r6ad  for  road; 
Less  stem  to  him  who  calls  his  coat,  a  cOat 
And  steers  Mb  boat  beUeving  it  a  b6at. 
She  pardoned  one,  our  classic  city's  boast. 
Who  said  at  Cambridge,  mOst  instead  of  mdst. 
But  knit  her  brows  and  stamped  her  angry  foot 
To  hear  a  Teacher  caU  a  r50t  a  rd6t. 

The  foregoing  examples  are  all  monosyllables,  but  bad 
articulation  is  frequently  the  result  of  joining  sounds  that 


do  not  belong  together.  For  example,  no  one  finds  it 
difficult  to  say  beaulyy  but  many  persist  in  pronoundng 
duty  as  though  it  were  spelled  either  dooty  or  jidy.  It 
is  not  only  from  untaught  speakers  that  we  hear  such 
slovenly  articulations  as  colyum  for  column^  and  priUy 
lot  preUy,  but  even  great  orators  occasionally  offend  quite 
as  unblushingly  as  less  noted  mortals. 

Nearly  all  such  are  errors  of  carelessness,  not  of  pure 
ignorance — of  carelessness  because  the  ear  never  tries 
to  hear  what  the  lips  articulate.  It  must  be  exasperating 
to  a  foreigner  to  find  that  the  elemental  soimd  ou  gives 
him  no  hint  for  the  prommdation  of  boughy  cough,  rough, 
thorough,  and  through,  and  we  can  well  forgive  even  a  man 
of  culture  who  occasionally  loses  his  way  amidst  the  in- 
tricacies of  English  articulation,  but  there  can  be  no  ex- 
cuse for  the  slovenly  utterance  of  the  simple  vowel  soimds 
which  form  at  once  the  life  and  the  beauty  of  our  language. 
He  who  is  too  lazy  to  speak  distinctly  should  hold  his 

The  consonant  sounds  occasion  serious  trouble  only  for 
those  who  do  not  look  with  care  at  the  spelling  of  words 
about  to  be  pronounced.  Nothing  but  carelessness  can 
account  for  saying  Jacop,  Babiist,  sevem,  alwus,  or  sadisfy. 

"He  that  hath  yaws  to  yaw,  let  him  yaw,"  is  the  ren- 
dering which  an  Anglophobiac  clergyman  gave  of  the 
familiar  scripture,  "He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him 
hear."  After  hearing  the  name  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy 
pronoimced,  a  Frenchman  who  wished  to  write  to  the 
eminent  Englishman  thus  addressed  the  letter:  "Serum 



Accentuation  is  the  stressing  of  the  proper  syllables 
in  words.  This  it  is  that  is  popularly  called  pronuncia- 
tion. For  instance,  we  properly  say  that  a  word  b  mis- 
pronounced when  it  is  accented  iW-vite  instead  of  in-vite^ 
though  it  is  really  an  ofiFense  against  only  one  form  of 
pronunciation — accentuation. 

It  is  the  work  of  a  lifetime  to  learn  the  accents  of  a  large 
vocabulary  and  to  keep  pace  with  changing  usage;  but 
an  alert  ear,  the  study  of  word-origins,  and  the  dictionary 
habit,  will  prove  to  be  mighty  helpers  in  a  task  that  can 
never  be  finally  completed. 


Correct  enimciation  is  the  complete  utterance  of  all 
the  sounds  of  a  syllable  or  a  word.  Wrong  articulation 
gives  the  wrong  sound  to  the  vowel  or  vowels  of  a  word  or 
a  syllable,  as  doo  for  dew;  or  unites  two  soimds  improp- 
erly, as  huUy  for  wholly.  Wrong  enunciation  is  the 
incomplete  utterance  of  a  syllable  or  a  word,  the  sound 
omitted  or  added  being  usually  consonantal.  To  say 
needcessity  instead  of  necessity  is  a  wrong  articulation;  to 
say  doin  for  doing  is  improper  enimciation.  The  one  ar- 
ticulates— that  is,  joints — two  sounds  that  should  not  be 
joined,  and  thus  gives  the  word  a  positively  wrong 
sound;  the  other  fails  to  touch  all  the  sounds  in  the 
word,  and  in  that  particular  way  also  sounds  the  word 

"My  tex*  may  be  foun'  in  the  fif '  and  six'  verses  of  the 


secon'  chapter  of  Titus;  and  the  subjec'  of  my  discourse 
is  *The  Government  of  ar  Homes/ "^ 

What  did  this  preacher  do  with  his  final  consonants? 
This  slovenly  dropping  of  essential  soimds  is  as  offensive 
as  the  conmion  habit  of  running  words  together  so  that 
they  lose  their  individuality  and  distinctness.  Lighten 
dark,  uppen  donvn,  doncher  know,  particular,  zamination, 
are  all  too  common  to  need  comment. 

Imperfect  enunciation  is  due  to  lack  of  attention  and 
to  lazy  lips.  It  can  be  corrected  by  resolutely  attending 
to  the  formation  of  syllables  as  they  are  uttered.  Flexi- 
ble lips  will  enunciate  difficult  combinations  of  sounds 
without  slighting  any  of  them,  but  such  flexibility  can- 
not be  attained  except  by  habitually  uttering  words  with 
distinctness  and  accuracy.  A  daily  exercise  in  enimciat- 
ing  a  series  of  sounds  will  in  a  short  time  give  flexibility 
to  the  lips  and  alertness  to  the  mind,  so  that  no  word  will 
be  uttered  without  receiving  its  due  complement  of  sound. 

Returning  to  our  definition,  we  see  that  when  the  sounds 
of  a  word  are  properly  articulated,  the  right  syllables 
accented,  and  full  value  given  to  each  sound  in  its  enun- 
ciation, we  have  correct  pronunciation.  Perhaps  one  word 
of  caution  is  needed  here,  lest  any  one,  anxious  to  bring 
out  clearly  every  soimd,  should  overdo  the  matter  and 
n^lect  the  unity  and  smoothness  of  prommdation.  Be 
careful  not  to  bring  syllables  into  so  much  prominence 
as  to  make  words  seem  long  and  angular.  The  joints 
must  be  kept  decently  dressed. 

Before  delivery,  do  not  fail  to  go  over  your  manu- 

^School  and  ColUffe  Sp^ker,  Miteh«U. 


8crq>t  and  note  every  sound  that  may  possibly  be  mis- 
pronounced. Consult  the  dictionary  and  make  assurance 
doubly  sure.  If  the  arrangement  of  words  is  unfavor- 
able to  dear  enunciation^  change  either  words  or  order, 
and  do  not  rest  until  you  can  follow  Hamlet's  directions 
to  the  players. 


1.  Practise  repeating  the  following  rapidly,  paying 
particular  attention  to  the  consonants. 

"Foolish  Flavius,  flushing  feverishly,  fiercely  found  fault  with 
Flora's  frivoUty.*" 

Mary's  matchless  mimicry  makes  much  mischief. 

Seated  on  shining  shale  she  sells  sea  shells. 

You  youngsters  yielded  your  youthful  yule-tide  yearnings 

2.  Sound  the  /  in  each  of  the  following  words,  repeated 
in  sequence: 

Blue  black  blinkers  blocked  Black  Blondin's  eyes. 

3.  Do  you  say  a  bloo  sky  or  a  blue  sky? 

4.  Compare  the  u  sound  in  few  and  in  new.  Say  each 
aloudy  and  dedde  which  is  correct,  Noo  York^  New  Yawky 
or  New  York? 

5.  Pay  careful  heed  to  the  directions  of  this  chapter 
in  reading  the  following,  from  Hamlet.  After  the  inter- 
view with  the  ghost  of  his  father,  Hamlet  tells  his  friends 
Horatio  and  Marcellus  that  he  intends  to  act  a  part: 

Horatio,    O  day  and  night,  but  this  is  wondrous  strange! 
Hamlei,    And  therefore  as  a  stranger  give  it  welcome. 

^Sekool  and  CMtQ9  Svakv,  Mitehall. 


There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 

Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy. 

But  come; 

Here,  as  before,  never,  so  help  you  mercy, 

How  strange  or  odd  so'er  I  bear  myself, — 

As  I  perchance  hereafter  shall  think  meet 

To  put  an  antic  disposition  on, — 

That  you,  at  such  times  seeing  me,  never  shall. 

With  arms  encumber'd  thus,  or  this  head-shake. 

Or  by  pronouncing  of  some  doubtful  phrase. 

As  "Well,  well,  we  know,"  or  "We  could,  an  if  we  would," 

Or  "If  we  list  to  speak,"  or  "There  be,  an  if  there  might," 

Or  such  ambiguous  giving-out,  to  note 

That  you  know  aught  of  me:  this  not  to  do. 

So  grace  and  mercy  at  your  most  need  help  you, 


—Act  /.    Scene  V. 

6.  Make  a  list  of  common  errors  of  pronunciation, 
saying  which  are  due  to  faulty  articulation,  wrong  ac- 
centuation, and  incomplete  enunciation.  In  each  case 
make  the  correction. 

7.  Criticise  any  speech  you  may  have  heard  which 
displayed  these  faults. 

8.  Explain  how  the  false  shame  of  seeming  to  be  too 
precise  may  hinder  us  from  cultivating  perfect  verbal 

9.  Over-precision  is  likewise  a  fault.  To  bring  out 
any  syllable  unduly  is  to  caricature  the  word.  Be  moder- 
aU  in  reading  the  following: 



The  enemies  of  the  Republic  call  me  tyrant !  Were  I  such  they 
would  grovel  at  my  feet.   I  should  gorge  them  with  gold,  I  should 


grant  them  immunity  for  their  crimes,  and  they  would  be  grate- 
ful. Were  I  such,  the  kings  we  have  vanquished,  far  from  de- 
nouncing Robespierre,  would  lend  me  their  guilty  support;  there 
would  be  a  covenant  between  them  and  me.  Tyranny  must 
have  tools.  But  the  enemies  of  tyranny, — ^whither  does  their 
path  tend?  To  the  tomb,  and  to  immortality!  What  tyrant  is 
my  protector?  To  what  faction  do  I  belong?  Yourselves!  What 
faction,  since  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution,  has  crushed  and 
annihilated  so  many  detected  traitors?  You,  the  people, — our 
principles — are  that  faction — ^a  faction  to  which  I  am  devoted, 
and  against  which  all  the  scoundrelism  of  the  day  is  banded! 

The  confirmation  of  the  Republic  has  been  my  object;  and  I 
know  that  the  Republic  can  be  established  only  on  the  eternal 
basis  of  morality.  Against  me,  and  against  those  who  hold 
kindred  principles,  the  league  is  formed.  My  life?  Oh!  my  life 
I  abandon  without  a  regret!  I  have  seen  the  past;  and  I  foresee 
the  future.  What  friend  of  this  country  would  wish  to  survive 
the  moment  when  he  could  no  longer  serve  it, — when  he  could 
no  longer  defend  innocence  against  oppression?  Wherefore 
should  I  continue  in  an  order  of  things,  where  intrigue  eternally 
triiunphs  over  truth;  where  justice  is  mocked;  where  passions 
the  most  abject,  or  fears  the  most  absurd,  over-ride  the  sacred 
interests  of  humanity  ?  In  witnessing  the  multitude  of  vices  which 
the  torrent  of  the  Revolution  has  rolled  in  turbid  communion 
with  its  civic  virtues,  I  confess  that  I  have  sometimes  feared  that 
I  should  be  sullied,  in  the  eyes  of  posterity,  by  the  impure  neigh- 
borhood of  unprincipled  men,  who  had  thrust  themselves  into 
association  with  the  sincere  friends  of  humanity;  and  I  rejoice 
that  these  conspirators  against  my  country  have  now,  by  their 
reckless  rage,  traced  deep  the  line  of  demarcation  between  them- 
selves and  all  true  men. 

Question  history,  and  learn  how  all  the  defenders  of  liberty, 
in  all  times,  have  been  overwhelmed  by  calumny.  But  their 
traducers  died  also.  The  good  and  the  bad  disappear  alike  from 
the  earth;  but  in  very  different  conditions.  O  Frenchmen!  O 
my  countrymen!  Let  not  your  enemies,  with  their  desolating 
doctrines,  degrade  your  souls,  and  enervate  your  virtues!  No, 
Chaumette,  no!  Death  is  not  "an  eternal  sleep!"  Citizens! 
efface  from  the  tomb  that  motto,  graven  by  sacrilegious  hands. 


which  spreads  over  all  nature  a  funereal  crape,  takes  from  op- 
pressed innocence  its  support,  and  affronts  the  beneficent  dis- 
pensation of  death!  Inscribe  rather  thereon  these  words:  ''Death 
is  the  commencement  of  immortality! "  I  leave  to  the  oppressors 
of  the  People  a  terrible  testament,  which  I  proclaim  with  the  in- 
dependence befitting  one  whose  career  is  so  nearly  ended;  it  is 
the  awful  truth— "Thou  shalt  die!" 



When  Whitefield  acted  an  old  blind  man  advancing  by  slow 
steps  toward  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  Lord  Chesterfield  started 
up  and  cried:  "Good  God,  he  is  gone!" 

— Nathan  Shbppard,  Before  an  Audience, 

Gesture  is  really  a  simple  matter  that  requires  observa- 
tion and  common  sense  rather  than  a  book  of  rules.  Ges- 
ture is  an  outward  expression  of  an  inward  condition.  It 
is  merely  an  effect — the  effect  of  a  mental  or  an  emotional 
impulse  struggling  for  expression  through  ph3rsical  avenues. 

You  must  not,  however,  begin  at  the  wrong  end:  if  you 
are  troubled  by  your  gestures,  or  a  lack  of  gestures,  attend 
to  the  cause,  not  the  efifect.  It  will  not  in  the  least  help 
matters  to  tack  on  to  your  delivery  a  few  mechanical 
movements.  If  the  tree  in  your  front  yard  is  not  growing 
to  suit  you,  fertilize  and  water  the  soil  and  let  the  tree  have 
sunshine.  Obviously  it  will  not  help  your  tree  to  nail  on  a 
few  branches.  If  your  cistern  is  dry,  wait  until  it  rains; 
or  bore  a  well.    Why  plunge  a  pump  into  a  dry  hole? 

The  speaker  whose  thoughts  and  emotions  are  welling 
within  him  like  a  mountain  spring  will  not  have  much 
trouble  to  make  gestures;  it  will  be  merely  a  question  of 
properly  directing  them.  If  his  enthusiasm  for  his  subject 
is  not  such  as  to  give  him  a  natural  impulse  for  dramatic 
action,  it  will  avail  nothing  to  furnish  him  with  a  long 
list  of  rules.    He  may  tack  on  some  movements,  but  they 


will  look  like  the  wilted  branches  nailed  to  a  tree  to  simu- 
late life.  Gestures  must  be  bom,  not  built.  A  wooden 
horse  may  amuse  the  children,  but  it  takes  a  live  one  to 
go  somewhere. 

It  is  not  only  impossible  to  lay  down  definite  niles  on 
this  subject,  but  it  would  be  silly  to  try,  for  everything 
depends  on  the  speech,  the  occasion,  the  personality  and 
feelings  of  the  speaker,  and  the  attitude  of  the  audience. 
It  is  easy  enoiigh  to  forecast  the  result  of  multiplying  seven 
by  six,  but  it  is  impossible  to  tell  any  man  what  kind  of 
gestures  he  will  be  impelled  to  use  when  he  wishes  to 
show  his  earnestness.  We  may  tell  him  that  many 
speakers  close  the  hand,  with  the  exception  of  the  fore- 
finger, and  pointing  that  finger  straight  at  the  audience 
pour  out  their  thoughts  like  a  volley;  or  that  others  stamp 
one  foot  for  emphasis;  or  that  Mr.  Bryan  often  slaps  his 
hands  together  for  great  force,  holding  one  palm  upward 
in  an  easy  manner;  or  that  Gladstone  would  sometimes 
make  a  rush  at  the  clerk's  table  in  Parliament  and  smite 
it  with  his  hand  so  forcefully  that  D'israeli  once  brought 
down  the  house  by  grimly  congratulating  himself  that  such 
a  barrier  stood  between  himself  and  ''the  honorable 

All  these  things,  and  a  bookful  more,  may  we  tell  the 
speaker,  but  we  cannot  know  whether  he  can  use  these 
gestures  or  not,  any  more  than  we  can  decide  whether  he 
could  wear  Mr.  Bryan's  clothes.  The  best  that  can  be 
done  on  this  subject  is  to  ofiFer  a  few  practical  suggestions, 
and  let  personal  good  taste  decide  as  to  where  effective 
dramatic  action  ends  and  extravagant  motion  begins. 


Any  Gesture  That  Merdy  Calls  Attention  to  Itself  Is  Bad 

The  purpose  of  a  gesture  is  to  carry  your  thought  and 
feeling  into  the  minds  and  hearts  of  your  hearers;  this 
it  does  by  emphasizing  your  message,  by  interpreting  it, 
by  expressing  it  in  action,  by  striking  its  tone  in  either  a 
physically  descriptive,  a  suggestive,  or  a  t)rpical  gesture — 
and  let  it  be  remembered  all  the  time  that  gesture  includes 
all  physical  movement,  from  facial  expression  and  the 
tossing  of  the  head  to  the  expressive  movements  of  hand 
and  foot.  A  shifting  of  the  pose  may  be  a  most  effective 

What  is  true  of  gesture  is  true  of  all  life.  If  the  people 
on  the  street  turn  around  and  watch  your  walk,  your  walk 
is  more  important  than  you  are — change  it.  If  the  at- 
tention of  your  audience  is  called  to  your  gestures,  they  are 
not  convincing,  because  they  appear  to  be — ^what  they 
have  a  doubtful  right  to  be  in  reality — studied.  Have  you 
ever  seen  a  speaker  use  such  grotesque  gesticulations  that 
you  were  fascinated  by  their  frenzy  of  oddity,  but  could 
not  follow  his  thought?  Do  not  smother  ideas  with  gym- 
nastics. Savonarola  would  rush  down  from  the  high  pul- 
pit among  the  congregation  in  the  duomo  at  Florence  and 
carry  the  fire  of  conviction  to  his  hearers;  Billy  Sunday 
slides  to  base  on  the  platform  carpet  in  dramatizing  one  of 
his  baseball  illustrations.  Yet  in  both  instances  the  mes- 
sage has  somehow  stood  out  bigger  than  the  gesture — it 
is  chiefly  in  calm  afterthought  that  men  have  remembered 
Hit  form  of  dramatic  expression.  When  Sir  Henry  Irving 
made  his  famous  exit  as  ^'Shylock"  the  last  thing  the  audi- 


ence  saw  was  his  pallid,  avaricious  hand  extended  skinny 
and  daw-like  against  the  background.  At  the  time,  every 
one  was  overwhelmed  by  the  tremendous  typical  quality 
of  this  gesture;  now,  we  have  time  to  think  of  its  art, 
and  discuss  its  realistic  power. 

Only  when  gesture  is  subordinated  to  the  absorbing 
importance  of  the  idea — a  spontaneous,  living  expression 
of  living  truth — is  it  justifiable  at  all;  and  when  it  is  re- 
membered for  itself — as  a  piece  of  unusual  physical 
energy  or  as  a  poem  of  grace — ^it  is  a  dead  failure  as  dra- 
matic expression.  There  is  a  place  for  a  unique  style 
of  walking — ^it  is  the  circus  or  the  cake-walk;  there 
is  a  place  for  surprisingly  rhythmical  evolutions  of 
aims  and  legs — it  is  on  the  dance  floor  or  the  stage. 
Don't  let  your  agility  and  grace  put  your  thoughts  out  of 

One  of  the  present  writers  took  his  first  lessons  in  ges- 
ture from  a  certain  college  president  who  knew  far  more 
about  what  had  happened  at  the  Diet  of  Worms  than  be 
did  about  how  to  express  himself  in  action.  His  instruc- 
tions were  to  start  the  movement  on  a  certain  word,  con- 
tinue it  on  a  precise  curve,  and  unfold  the  fingers  at  the 
conclusion,  ending  with  the  forefinger — ^just  so.  Plenty, 
and  more  than  plenty,  has  been  published  on  this  subject, 
giving  just  such  silly  directions.  Gesture  is  a  thing  of 
mentality  and  feeling — ^not  a  matter  of  geometry.  Re- 
member, whenever  a  pair  of  shoes,  a  method  of  pronuncia- 
tion, or  a  gesture  calls  attention  to  itself,  it  is  bad.  When 
you  have  made  really  good  gestures  in  a  good  speech  your 
hearers  will  not  go  away  saying,  ''What  beautiful  gestures 


he  madel"  but  they  will  say,  'Til  vote  for  that  measure.'' 
"He  is  right — ^I  believe  in  that." 

Gestures  Should  Be  Bom  of  the  Moment 

The  best  actors  and  public  speakers  rarely  know  in  ad- 
vance what  gestures  they  are  going  to  make.  They  make 
one  gesture  on  certain  words  tonight,  and  none  at  all  to- 
morrow night  at  the  same  point — ^their  various  moods  and 
interpretations  govern  their  gestures.  It  is  all  a  matter 
of  impulse  and  intelligent  feeling  with  them — don't  over- 
look that  word  inkUigent,  Nature  does  not  always  pro- 
vide the  same  kind  of  simsets  or  snow  flakes,  and  the  move- 
ments of  a  good  speaker  vary  almost  as  much  as  the  crea- 
tions of  nature. 

Now  all  this  is  not  to  say  that  you  must  not  take  some 
thought  for  your  gestures.  If  that  were  meant,  why  this 
chapter?  When  the  sergeant  de^airingly  besought  the 
recruit  in  the  awkward  squad  to  step  out  and  look  at  him- 
self, he  gave  splendid  advice — ^and  worthy  of  personal 
application.  Particularly  while  you  are  in  the  learning 
days  of  public  speaking  you  must  learn  to  criticise  your 
own  gestures.  Recall  them — see  where  they  were  use- 
less, crude,  awkward,  what  not,  and  do  better  next  time. 
There  is  a  vast  deal  of  difference  between  being  conscious 
of  self  and  being  self-consdous. 

It  will  require  your  nice  discrimination  id  order  to  cul- 
tivate qx)ntaneous  gestures  and  yet  give  due  attention 
to  practise.  While  you  depend  upon  the  moment  it  is 
vital  to  remember  that  only  a  dramatic  genius  can  ef- 
fectively accomplish  such  feats  as  we  have  related  of 


Whitefidd,  Savonarola,  and  others;  and  doubtlc^  the 
first  time  they  were  used  they  came  in  a  burst  of  spon- 
taneous feeling,  yet  Whitefield  declared  that  not  until 
he  had  delivered  a  sermon  forty  times  was  its  delivery 
perfected.  What  spontaneity  initiates  let  practise  com- 
plete. Every  effective  speaker  and  every  vivid  actor  has 
observed,  considered  and  practised  gesture  until  his 
dramatic  actions  are  a  sub-consdous  possession,  just  like 
his  ability  to  pronounce  correctly  without  especially  con- 
centrating his  thought.  Every  able  platform  man  has 
possessed  himself  of  a  dozen  ways  in  which  he  might  de- 
pict in  gesture  any  given  emotion;  in  fact,  the  means  for 
such  expression  are  endless — ^and  this  is  precisely  why  it  is 
both  useless  and  harmful  to  make  a  chart  of  gestures  and 
enforce  them  as  the  ideab  of  what  may  be  used  to  express 
this  or  that  feeling.  Practise  descriptive,  suggestive,  and 
typical  movements  until  they  come  as  naturally  as  a 
good  articulation;  and  rarely  forecast  the  gestures  you 
will  use  at  a  given  moment:  leave  something  to  that 

Avoid  Monotony  in  Gesture 

Roast  beef  is  an  excellent  dish,  but  it  would  be  terrible 
as  an  exclusive  diet.  No  matter  how  effective  one 
gesture  is,  do  not  overwork  it.  Put  variety  in  your 
actions.  Monotony  will  destroy  all  beauty  and  power. 
The  pump  handle  makes  one  effective  gesture,  and 
on  hot  days  that  one  is  very  eloquent,  but  it  has  its 


Any  MavemefU  thai  is  nai  SigmficofUf  Weakens 

Do  not  foiget  that.  Restlessness  is  not  expression.  A 
great  many  useless  movements  will  only  take  the  attention 
of  the  audience  from  what  you  are  saying.  A  widely- 
noted  man  introduced  the  speaker  of  the  evening  one 
Sunday  lately  to  a  New  York  audience.  The  only  thing 
remembered  about  that  introductory  speech  is  that  the 
speaker  played  nervously  with  the  covering  of  the  table 
as  he  talked.  We  naturally  watch  moving  objects.  A 
janitor  putting  down  a  window  can  take  the  attention  of 
the  hearers  from  Mr.  Roosevelt.  By  making  a  few  move- 
ments at  one  side  of  the  stage  a  chorus  girl  may  draw  the 
interest  of  the  spectators  from  a  big  scene  between  the 
"leads."  When  our  forefathers  lived  in  caves  they  had  to 
watch  moving  objects,  for  movements  meant  danger.  We 
have  not  yet  overcome  the  habit.  Advertisers  have  taken 
advantage  of  it — ^witness  the  moving  electric  light  signs 
in  any  city.  A  shrewd  speaker  will  respect  this  law  and 
conserve  the  attention  of  his  audience  by  eliminating  all 
unnecessary  movements. 

Gesture  Should  either  be  Simultaneaus  with  or  Precede  the 

Words — not  Follow  Them 

Lady  Macbeth  says:  "Bear  welcome  in  your  eye,  your 
hand,  your  tongue."  Reverse  this  order  and  you  get 
comedy.  Say,  "There  he  goes,"  pointing  at  him  after 
you  have  finished  your  words,  and  see  if  the  result  b  not 


Do  Not  Make  Short,  Jerky  Movements 

Some  speakers  seem  to  be  imitating  a  waiter  who  has 
failed  to  get  a  tip.  Let  your  movements  be  easy,  and  from 
the  shoulder,  as  a  rule,  rather  than  from  the  elbow.  But 
do  not  go  to  the  other  extreme  and  make  too  many  flowing 
motions — that  savors  of  the  lackadaisical. 

Put  a  little  "pimch"  and  life  into  your  gestures.  You 
can  not,  however,  do  this  mechanically.  The  audience  will 
detect  it  if  you  do.  They  may  not  know  just  what  is 
wrong,  but  the  gesture  will  have  a  false  appearance  to 

Facial  Expression  is  Important 

Have  you  ever  stopped  in  front  of  a  Broadway  theater 
and  looked  at  the  photographs  of  the  cast?  Notice  the 
row  of  chorus  girls  who  are  supposed  to  be  expressing 
fear.  Their  attitudes  are  so  mechanical  that  the  attempt 
is  ridiculous.  Notice  the  picture  of  the  "star"  expressing 
the  same  emotion:  his  muscles  are  drawn,  his  eyebrows 
lifted,  he  shrinks,  and  fear  shines  through  his  eyes.  That 
actor  felt  fear  when  the  photograph  was  taken.  The 
chorus  girls  felt  that  it  was  time  for  a  rarebit,  and  more 
nearly  expressed  that  emotion  than  they  did  fear.  Inci- 
dentally, that  is  one  reason  why  they  stay  in  the  chorus. 

The  movements  of  the  facial  muscles  may  mean  a  great 
deal  more  than  the  movements  of  the  hand.  The  man  who 
sits  in  a  dejected  heap  with  a  look  of  despair  on  his  face 
is  expressing  his  thoughts  and  feelings  just  as  effectively 
as  the  man  who  is  waving  his  arms  and  shouting  from  the 


back  of  a  dray  wagon.  The  eye  has  been  called  the  window 
of  the  soul.  Through  it  shines  the  light  of  our  thoughts 
and  feelings. 

Do  Not  Use  Too  Much  Geskire 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  the  big  crises  of  life  we  do  not  go 
through  many  actions.  When  your  closest  friend  dies 
you  do  not  throw  up  your  hands  and  talk  about  your  grief. 
You  are  more  likely  to  sit  and  brood  in  dry-eyed  silence. 
The  Hudson  River  does  not  make  much  noise  on  its  way 
to  the  sea — ^it  is  not  half  so  loud  as  the  little  creek  up  in 
Bronx  Park  that  a  bullfrog  could  leap  across.  The 
barking  dog  never  tears  your  trousers — at  least  they  say 
he  doesn't.  Do  not  fear  the  man  who  waves  his  arms  and 
shouts  his  anger,  but  the  man  who  comes  up  quietly  with 
eyes  flaming  and  face  burning  may  knock  you  down.  Fuss 
is  not  force.  Observe  these  principles  in  nature  and  prac- 
tise them  in  your  delivery. 

The  writer  of  this  chapter  once  observed  an  instructor 
drilling  a  class  in  gesture.  They  had  come  to  the  passage 
from  Henry  VIII  in  which  the  hiunbled  Cardinal  says: 
"Farewell,  a  long  farewell  to  all  my  greatness."  It  is 
one  of  the  pathetic  passages  of  literature.  A  man  uttering 
such  a  sentiment  would  be  crushed,  and  the  last  thing  on 
earth  he  would  do  would  be  to  make  flamboyant  move- 
ments. Yet  this  class  had  an  elocutionary  manual  be- 
fore them  that  gave  an  appropriate  gesture  for  every  oc- 
casion, from  paying  the  gas  bill  to  death-bed  farewells. 
So  they  were  instructed  to  throw  their  arms  out  at  full 
length  on  each  side  and  say:  "Farewell,  a  long  farewell 


to  all  my  greatness."  Such  a  gesture  might  possibly  be 
used  in  an  after-dinner  speech  at  the  convention  of  a 
telq>hone  company  whose  lines  extended  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific,  but  to  think  of  Wolsey's  iising  that  move- 
ment would  suggest  that  his  fate  was  just. 


The  physical  attitude  to  be  taken  before  the  audience 
really  is  included  in  gesture.  Just  what  that  attitude 
should  be  depends,  not  on  rules,  but  on  the  spirit  of  the 
speech  and  the  occasion.  Senator  La  FoUette  stood  for 
three  hours  with  his  weight  thrown  on  his  forward  foot 
as  he  leaned  out  over  the  footlights,  ran  his  fingers  through 
his  hair,  and  flamed  out  a  denunciation  of  the  trusts.  It 
was  very  effective.  But  imagine  a  speaker  taking  that 
kind  of  position  to  discourse  on  the  development  of  road- 
making  machinery.  If  you  have  a  fiery,  aggressive  mes- 
sage, and  will  let  yourself  go,  nature  will  natiu^y  pull 
your  weight  to  your  forward  foot.  A  man  in  a  hot  political 
argument  or  a.  street  brawl  never  has  to  stop  to  think  upon 
which  foot  he  should  throw  his  weight.  You  may  some- 
times place  your  weight  on  your  back  foot  if  you  have  a 
restful  and  calm  message — ^but  don't  worry  about  it: 
just  stand  like  a  man  who  genuinely  feels  what  he  is 
saying.  Do  not  stand  with  your  heels  close  together,  like 
a  soldier  or  a  butler.  No  more  should  you  stand  with  them 
wide  apart  like  a  traffic  policeman.  Use  simple  good 
manners  and  common  sense. 

Here  a  word  of  caution  is  needed.  We  have  advised  you 
to  allow  your  gestures  and  postures  to  be  spontaneous 

l66  THE  AST  or  PUBUC 

and  not  woodenly  prepared  bef ordiand,  bat  do  not  go 
to  the  extreme  oi  ignoring  the  importance  of  acquiring 
mastery  of  your  physical  movements.  A  muscular  hand, 
made  flexible  by  free  movement,  is  far  more  likely  to  be 
an  effective  instrument  in  gesture  than  a  stiff,  pudgy 
bunch  of  fingers.  If  your  shoulders  are  lithe  and  carried 
well,  while  your  chest  does  not  retreat  from  association 
with  your  chin,  the  chances  of  using  good  extemporaneous 
gestures  are  so  much  the  better.  Learn  to  keep  the  back 
of  your  neck  touching  your  collar,  hold  your  chest  high, 
and  keep  down  your  waist  measure. 

So  attention  to  strength,  poise,  flexibility,  and  grace 
of  body  are  the  foundations  of  good  gesture,  for  they  are 
expressions  of  vitality,  and  without  vitality  no  ^)eaker 
can  enter  the  kingdom  of  power.  When  an  awkward  giant 
like  Abraham  Lincoln  rose  to  the  sublimest  heights  of 
oratory  he  did  so  because  of  the  greatness  of  his  soul — 
his  very  ruggedness  of  spirit  and  artless  honesty  were 
properly  expressed  in  his  gnarly  body.  The  fire  of  charac- 
ter, of  earnestness,  and  of  message  swept  his  hearers  be- 
fore him  when  the  tepid  words  of  an  insincere  Apollo 
would  have  left  no  effect.  But  be  sure  you  are  a  second 
Lincoln  before  you  despise  the  handicap  of  physical 

"Ty"  Cobb  has  confided  to  the  public  that  when  he 
is  in  a  batting  slump  he  even  stands  before  a  mirror,  bat 
in  hand,  to  observe  the  "swing"  and  "follow  through" 
of  his  batting  form.  If  you  would  learn  to  stand  well  be- 
fore an  audience,  look  at  yourself  in  a  mirror — but  not 
too  often.     Practise  walking  and  standing  before  the 


miiror  so  as  to  conquer  awkwardness — ^not  to  cultivate  a 
pose.  Stand  on  the  platform  in  the  same  easy  manner 
that  you  would  use  before  guests  in  a  drawing-room.  If 
your  position  is  not  graceful,  make  it  so  by  dancing, 
gymnasium  work,  and  by  getting  grace  and  poise  in  your 

Do  not  continually  hold  the  same  position.  Any  big 
diange  of  thought  necessitates  a  change  of  position.  Be 
at  home.  There  are  no  rules — ^it  is  all  a  matter  of  taste. 
While  on  the  platform  forget  that  you  have  any  hands 
until  you  desire  to  use  them — ^then  remember  them  effec- 
tively. Gravity  will  take  care  of  them.  Of  course,  if 
you  want  to  put  them  behind  you,  or  fold  them  once  in 
a  while,  it  is  not  going  to  ruin  your  speech.  Thought  and 
feeling  are  the  big  things  in  speaking — not  the  position  of- a 
foot  or  a  hand.  Simply  put  your  limbs  where  you  want 
them  to  be — ^you  have  a  will,  so  do  not  neglect  to  use  it. 

Let  us  reiterate,  do  not  despise  practise.  Your  gestures 
and  movements  may  be  spontaneous  and  still  be  wrong. 
No  matter  how  natural  they  are,  it  is  possible  to  improve 

It  is  impossible  for  anyone — even  yourself — to  criticise 
your  gestures  until  after  they  are  made.  You  can't 
prune  a  peach  tree  until  it  comes  up;  therefore  speak 
much,  and  observe  your  own  speech.  While  you  are  ex- 
amining yourself,  do  not  forget  to  study  statuary  and 
paintings  to  see  how  the  great  portrayers  of  nature  have 
made  their  subjects  express  ideas  through  action.  Notice 
the  gestures  of  the  best  speakers  and  actors.  Observe 
the  physical  expression  of  life  everywhere.    The  leaves 


on  the  tree  respond  to  the  slightest  breeze.  The  musdes 
of  your  face,  the  light  of  your  eyes,  should  respond  to  the 
slightest  change  of  feeling.  Emerson  says:  "Every  man 
that  I  meet  is  my  superior  in  some  way.  In  that  I  learn 
of  him."  Illiterate  Italians  make  gestures  so  wonderful 
and  beautiful  that  Booth  or  Barrett  might  have  sat  at 
thdr  feet  and  been  instructed.  Open  your  eyes.  Emerson 
sa3rs  again:  "We  are  immersed  in  beauty,  but  our  eyes 
have  no  dear  vision."  Toss  this  book  to  one  side;  go 
out  and  watch  one  child  plead  with  another  for  a  bite  of 
s^ple;  see  a  street  brawl;  observe  life  in  action.  Do  you 
want  to  know  how  to  express  victory?  Watch  the  victors* 
hands  go  high  on  election  night.  Do  you  want  to  plead 
a  cause?  Make  a  composite  photograph  of  all  the  pleaders 
in  daily  life  you  constantly  see.  Beg,  borrow,  and  steal 
the  best  you  can  get,  BUT  DON'T  GIVE  IT  OUT  AS 
THEFT.  Assimilate  it  until  it  becomes  a  part  of  you — 
then  lei  the  expression  come  out. 


1.  From  what  source  do  you  intend  to  study  gesture? 

2.  What  is  the  first  requisite  of  good  gestures?  Why? 

3.  Why  is  it  impossible  to  lay  down  sted-dad  rules 
for  gesturing? 

4.  Describe  (a)  a  graceful  gesture  that  you  have  ob- 
served; (b)  a  forceful  one;  (c)  an  extravagant  one;  (i) 
an  inappropriate  one. 

$.      What  gestures  do  you  use  for  emphasis?    Why? 

6.  How  can  grace  of  movement  be  acquired? 

7.  When  in  doubt  about  a  gesture  what  would  you  do? 


8.  What,  according  to  your  observations  before  a 
mirror,  are  your  faults  in  gesturing? 

9.  How  do  you  intend  to  correct  them? 

10.  What  are  some  of  the  gestures,  if  any,  that  you 
might  use  in  delivering  Thurston's  speech,  page  50; 
Grady's  speech,  page  36?    Be  specific 

1 1 .  Describe  some  particularly  appropriate  gesture  that 
you  have  observed.    Why  was  it  appropriate? 

12.  Cite  at  least  three  movements  in  nature  that 
might  well  be  imitated  in  gesture. 

13.  What  would  you  gather  from  the  expressions: 
descriptive  gesture,  suggestive  gesture,  and  typical  gesture? 

14.  Select  any  elemental  emotion,  such  as  fear,  and 
try,  by  picturing  in  your  mind  at  least  five  different  situ- 
ations that  might  call  forth  this  emotion,  to  express  its 
several  phases  by  gesture — ^including  posture,  movement, 
and  facial  expression. 

15.  Do  the  same  thing  for  such  other  emotions  as  you 
may  select. 

16.  Select  three  passages  from  any  source,  only  being 
sure  that  they  are  suitable  for  public  delivery,  memorize 
each,  and  then  devise  gestures  suitable  for  each.   Say  why. 

17.  Criticise  the  gestures  in  any  speech  you  have  heard 

18.  Practise  flexible  movement  of  the  hand.  What 
exercises  did  you  find  useful? 

19.  Carefully  observe  some  animal;  then  devise 
several  typical  gestures. 

30.  Write  a  brief  dialogue  between  any  two  animals; 
read  it  aloud  and  invent  expressive  gestures. 


21.  Deliver,  with  appropriate  gestures,  the  quotation 
that  heads  this  chapter. 

22.  Read  aloud  the  following  inddent,  using  dramatic 

When  Voltaire  was  preparing  a  yoting  actress  to  appear  in  one 
of  his  tragedies,  he  tied  her  hands  to  her  sides  with  pack  thread 
in  order  to  check  her  tendency  toward  eicuberant  gesticulation. 
Under  this  condition  of  compulsory  immobility  she  commenced 
to  rehearse,  and  for  some  time  she  bore  herself  calmly  enough; 
but  at  last,  completely  carried  away  by  her  feelings,  she  burst 
her  bonds  and  flung  up  her  arms.  Alarmed  at  her  supposed 
neglect  of  his  instructions,  she  began  to  apologize  to  the  poet; 
he  smilingly  reassured  her,  however;  the  gesture  was  then  admir- 
able, because  it  was  irrepressible. — Redway,  The  Actor* s  Art, 

23.  Render  the  following  with  suitable  gestures: 

One  day,  while  preaching,  Whitefield  "suddenly  assumed  a 
nautical  air  and  manner  that  were  irresistible  with  him,"  and 
broke  forth  in  these  words:  "Well,  my  boys,  we  have  a  clear  sky, 
and  are  making  fine  headway  over  a  smooth  sea  before  a  light 
breeze,  and  we  shall  soon  lose  sight  of  land.  But  what  means 
this  sudden  lowering  of  the  heavens,  and  that  dark  doud  arising 
from  beneath  the  western  horizon?  Hark!  Don't  you  hear  dis- 
tant thunder?  Don't  you  see  those  flashes  of  lightning?  There 
is  a  storm  gathering!  Every  man  to  his  duty!  The  air  is  dark! — 
the  tempest  rages! — our  masts  are  gone. — ^the  ship  is  on  her  beam 
ends !  What  next?  "  At  this  a  number  of  sailors  in  the  congrega- 
tion, utterly  swept  away  by  the  dramatic  description,  leaped 
to  their  feet  and  cried:  "The  longboat! — ^take  to  the  longboat!" 

— Nathan  Shbppard,  Before  an  Audience. 



The  crown,  the  consummation,  of  the  discourse  is  its  delivery. 
Toward  it  all  preparation  looks,  for  it  the  audience  waits,  by  it 

the   speaker  is  judged All   the  forces  of  the 

orator's  life  converge  in  his  oratory.  The  logical  acuteness  with 
which  he  marshals  the  facts  around  his  theme,  the  rhetorical 
facility  with  which  he  orders  his  language,  the  control  to  which  ^ 
he  has  attained  in  the  use  of  his  body  as  a  single  organ  of  ex- 
pression, whatever  richness  of  acquisition  and  experience  are 
his — ^these  all  are  now  incidents;   ihe  fact  is  the  sending  of  his 

message    home    to    his    hearers The    hour    of 

delivery  is  the  "supreme,  inevitable  hour"  for  the  orator.  It 
is  this  fact  that  makes  lack  of  adequate  preparation  such  an 
impertinence.  And  it  is  this  that  sends  such  thrills  of  indescrib- 
able joy  through  the  orator's  whole  being  when  he  has  achieved 
a  success — it  is  like  the  mother  forgetting  her  pangs  for  the  joy 
of  bringing  a  son  into  the  world. 

— ^J.  B.  £.,  How  to  Attract  and  Hold  an  Audience, 

There  are  four  fundamental  methods  of  delivering  an 
address;  all  others  are  modifications  of  one  or  more  of 
these:  reading  from  manuscript,  committing  the  written 
speech  and  speaking  from  memory,  speaking  from  notes, 
and  extemporaneous  speech.  It  is  impossible  to  say  which 
form  of  delivery  is  best  for  all  speakers  in  all  circumstances 
— ^in  deciding  for  yourself  you  should  consider  the  oc- 
casion, the  nature  of  the  audience,  the  character  of  your 
subject,  and  your  own  limitations  of  time  and  ability. 
However,  it  is  worth  while  warning  you  not  to  be  lenient 
in  self-exaction.     Say  to  yourself  courageously:    What 


Others  can  do,  I  can  attempt.    A  bold  spirit  conquers 
where  others  flinch,  and  a  trying  task  challenges  pluck. 

Reading  from  Manuscript 

This  method  really  deserves  short  shrift  in  a  book  on 
public  speaking,  for,  delude  yourself  as  you  may,  public 
reading  is  not  public  speaking.  Yet  there  are  so  many  who 
grasp  this  broken  reed  for  support  that  we  must  here  dis- 
cuss the  "read  speech" — apologetic  misnomer  as  it  is. 

Certainly  there  are  occasions — among  them,  the  open- 
ing of  Congress,  the  presentation  of  a  sore  question  before 
a  deliberative  body,  or  a  historical  commemoration — 
when  it  may  seem  not  alone  to  the  "orator"  but  to  all 
those  interested  that  the  chief  thing  is  to  express  certain 
thoughts  in  precise  language — ^in  language  that  must  not 
be  either  misunderstood  or  misquoted.  At  such  times 
oratory  is  unhappily  elbowed  to  a  back  bench,  the  manu- 
script is  solemnly  withdrawn  from  the  capacious  inner 
pocket  of  the  new  frock  coat,  and  everyone  settles  himself 
resignedly,  with  only  a  feeble  flicker  of  hope  that  the 
so-called  speech  may  not  be  as  long  as  it  is  thick.  The 
words  may  be  golden,  but  the  hearers'  (?)  eyes  are  prone 
to  be  leaden,  and  in  about  one  instance  out  of  a  htmdred 
does  the  perpetrator  really  deliver  an  impressive  address. 
His  excuse  is  his  apology — ^he  is  not  to  be  blamed,  as  a 
rule,  for  some  one  decreed  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
cut  loose  from  manuscript  moorings  and  take  his  audience 
with  him  on  a  really  delightful  sail. 

One  great  trouble  on  such  "great  occasions"  is  that  the 
essayist — ^for  such  he  is — ^has  been  chosen  not  because 


of  his  speaking  ability  but  because  his  grandfather  fought 
in  a  certain  battle,  or  his  constituents  sent  him  to  Congress, 
or  his  gifts  in  some  line  of  endeavor  other  than  speaking 
have  distinguished  him. 

As  well  choose  a  surgeon  from  his  ability  to  play  golf. 
To  be  sure,  it  always  interests  an  audience  to  see  a  great 
man;  because  of  his  eminence  they  are  likely  to  listen  to 
his  words  with  respect,  perhaps  with  interest,  even  when 
droned  from  a  manuscript.  But  how  much  more  effective 
such  a  deliverance  would  be  if  the  papers  were  cast  aside! 

Nowhere  is  the  read-address  so  common  as  in  the  pulpit 
— the  pulpit,  that  in  these  days  least  of  all  can  afford  to 
invite  a  handicap.  Doubtless  many  clerg3mien  prefer 
finish  to  fervor — ^let  them  choose:  they  are  rarely  men  who 
sway  the  masses  to  acceptance  of  their  message.  What 
they  gain  in  precision  and  elegance  of  language  they  lose 
in  force. 

There  are  just  four  motives  that  can  move  a  man  to 
read  his  address  or  sermon: 

1.  Laziness  is  the  commonest.  Enough  said.  Even 
Heaven  cannot  make  a  lazy  man  efficient. 

2.  A  memory  so  defective  that  he  really  cannot  speak 
without  reading.  Alas,  he  is  not  speaking  when  he  is 
reading,  so  his  dilemma  is  painful — and  not  to  himself 
alone.  But  no  man  has  a  right  to  assume  that  his  memory 
is  utterly  bad  until  he  has  buckled  down  to  memory  cul- 
ture— ^and  failed.  A  weak  memory  is  oftener  an  excuse 
than  a  reason. 

3.  A  genuine  lack  of  time  to  do  more  than  write  the 
speech.   There  are  such  instances — ^but  they  do  not  occur 


every  week!  The  (li^x)sition  of  your  time  allows  more 
flexibility  than  you  realize.  Motive  3  too  often  harnesses 
up  with  Motive  i. 

4.  A  conviction  that  the  speech  is  too  important  to 
risk  forsaking  the  manuscript.  But,  if  it  is  vital  that  every 
word  should  be  so  precise,  the  style  so  polished,  and  the 
thoughts  so  logical,  that  the  preacher  must  write  the  sermon 
entire,  is  not  the  message  important  enough  to  warrant 
extra  effort  in  perfecting  its  delivery?  It  is  an  insult  to 
a  congr^ation  and  disrespectful  to  Almighty  God  to 
put  the  phrasing  of  a  message  above  the  message  itself. 
To  reach  the  hearts  of  the  hearers  the  sermon  must  be 
delivered — ^it  is  only  half  delivered  when  the  speaker 
cannot  utter  it  with  original  fire  and  force,  when  he  merely 
repeats  words  that  were  conceived  hours  or  weeks  before 
and  hence  are  Uke  champagne  that  has  lost  its  fizz.  The 
reading  preacher's  eyes  are  tied  down  to  his  manuscript; 
he  cannot  give  the  audience  the  benefit  of  his  expression. 
How  long  would  a  play  fill  a  theater  if  the  actors  held  their* 
cue-books  in  hand  and  read  their  parts?  Imagine  Patrick 
Henry  reading  his  famous  speech;  Peter-the-Hermit, 
manuscript  in  hand,  exhorting  the  crusaders;  Napoleon, 
constantly  looking  at  his  papers,  addressing  the  army  at 
the  Pyramids;  or  Jesus  reading  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount! 
These  speakers  were  so  full  of  their  subjects,  their  general 
preparation  had  been  so  richly  adequate,  that  there  was 
no  necessity  for  a  manuscript,  either  to  refer  to  or  to  serve 
as  "an  outward  and  visible  sign"  of  their  preparedness. 
No  event  was  ever  so  dignified  that  it  required  an  arti- 
ficial attempt  at  speech  making.     Call  an  essay  by  its 


right  name,  but  never  call  it  a  speech.  Perhaps  the  most 
dignified  of  events  is  a  supplication  to  the  Creator.  If 
you  ever  listened  to  the  reading  of  an  original  prayer  you 
must  have  felt  its  superficiality. 

Regardless  of  what  the  theories  may  be  about  manu- 
script delivery,  the  fact  remains  that  it  does  not  work  out 
with  efficiency.    Avoid  U  whenever  at  all  possible. 

Committing  the  Written  Speech  and  Speaking  from  Memory 

This  method  has  certain  points  in  its  favor.  If  you  have 
time  and  leisure,  it  is  possible  to  polish  and  rewrite  your 
ideas  until  they  are  expressed  in  clear,  concise  terms. 
Pope  sometimes  spent  a  whole  day  in  perfecting  one 
couplet.  Gibbon  consumed  twenty  years  gathering 
material  for  and  rewriting  the  '^  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire."  Although  you  cannot  devote  such 
painstaking  preparation  to  a  speech,  you  should  take  time 
to  eliminate  useless  words,  crowd  whole  paragraphs  into 
'  a  sentence  and  choose  proper  illustrations.  Good  speeches, 
like  plays,  are  not  written;  they  are  rewritten.  The 
National  Cash  Register  Company  follows  this  plan  with 
their  most  efficient  selling  organization:  they  require  their 
salesmen  to  memorize  verbatim  a  selling  talk.  They 
maintain  that  there  is  one  best  way  of  putting  their 
selling  arguments,  and  they  insist  that  each  salesman  use 
this  ideal  way  rather  than  employ  any  haphazard  phrases 
that  may  come  into  his  mind  at  the  moment. 

The  method  of  writing  and  committing  has  been  adopted 
by  many  noted  speakers;  Julius  Csesar,  Robert  IngersoU, 
and,  on  some  occasions,  Wendell  Phillips,  were  distin- 


guished  examples.  The  wonderful  effects  achieved  by 
famous  actors  were,  of  course,  accomplished  through  the 
delivery  of  memorized  lines. 

The  inexperienced  speaker  must  be  warned  before 
attempting  this  method  of  delivery  that  it  is  difficult 
and  tr3dng.  It  requires  much  skill  to  make  it  efficient. 
The  memorized  lines  of  the  young  speaker  will  usually 
sound  like  memorized  words,  and  repel. 

If  you  want  to  hear  an  example,  listen  to  a  department 
store  demonstrator  repeat  her  memorized  lingo  about  the 
newest  furniture  polish  or  breakfast  food.  It  requires 
training  to  make  a  memorized  speech  sound  fresh  and 
spontaneous,  and,  unless  you  have  a  fine  native  memory, 
in  each  instance  the  finished  product  necessitates  much 
labor.  Should  you  forget  a  part  of  your  speech  or  miss 
a  few  words,  you  are  liable  to  be  so  confused  that,  like 
Mark  Twain's  guide  in  Rome,  you  will  be  compelled  to 
repeat  your  lines  from  the  beginning. 

On  the  other  hand,  you  may  be  so  taken  up  with  trying 
to  recall  your  written  words  that  you  will  not  abandon 
yourself  to  the  spirit  of  your  address,  and  so  fail  to  deliver 
it  with  that  spontaneity  which  is  so  vital  to  forceful  de- 

But  do  not  let  these  difficulties  frighten  you.  If  com- 
mitting seems  best  to  you,  give  it  a  faithful  trial.  Do  not 
be  deterred  by  its  pitfalls,  but  by  resolute  practise  avoid 

One  of  the  best  wa3rs  to  rise  superior  to  these  difficulties 
is  to  do  as  Dr.  Wallace  Radcliffe  often  does:  commit 
without  writing  the  speech,  making  practically  all  the 


preparadon  mentally,  without  putting  pen  to  paper — a 
laborious  but  effective  way  of  cultivating  both  mind  and 

You  will  find  it  excellent  practise,  both  for  memory  and 
delivery,  to  commit  the  specimen  speeches  f otmd  in  this 
volume  and  declaim  them,  with  all  attention  to  the  prin- 
ciples we  have  put  before  you.  William  Ellery  Channing, 
himself  a  distinguished  q)eaker,  years  ago  had  this  to  say 
of  practise  in  declamation: 

''Is  there  not  an  amusement,  having  an  afSnity  with 
the  drama,  which  might  be  usefully  introduced  among  us? 
I  mean,  Recitation.  A  work  of  genius,  recited  by  a  man 
of  fine  taste,  enthusiasm,  and  powers  of  elocution,  is  a 
very  pure  and  high  gratification.  Were  this  art  cultivated 
and  encouraged,  great  numbers,  now  insensible  to  the  most 
beautiful  compositions,  might  be  waked  up  to  their  excel- 
lence and  power." 

Speaking  from  Notes 

The  third,  and  the  most  popular  method  of  delivery, 
is  probably  also  the  best  one  for  the  beginner.  Speaking 
from  notes  is  not  ideal  delivery,  but  we  learn  to  swim  in 
shallow  water  before  going  out  beyond  the  ropes. 

Make  a  definite  plan  for  your  discourse  (for  a  fuller 
discussion  see  Chapter  XVIII)  and  set  down  the  points 
somewhat  in  the  fashion  of  a  lawyer's  brief,  or  a  preacher's 
outline.    Here  is  a  sample  of  very  simple  notes: 


I.        Introduction. 

Attention  indispensable  to  the  performance  of  any 
great  work.    Anecdote, 


II.      Defined  and  Illustrated. 

1.  From  common  observation. 

2.  From  the  lives  of  great  men  i  ^  ,        ^    , 

*  I  Robert  E.  Lee. 

m.     Its  Relation  to  Other  Mental  Powers. 

1.  Reason. 

2.  Imagination. 

3.  Memory. 

4.  Will.    Anecdote. 

TV.     Attention  May  be  Cultivated. 

1.  Involuntary  attention. 

2.  Voluntary  attention.    Examples. 

V.       Conclusion. 

The  consequences  of  inattention  and  of  attention. 

Few  briefs  would  be  so  precise  as  this  one,  for  with 
experience  a  speaker  learns  to  use  littie  tricks  to  attract 
his  eye — ^he  may  underscore  a  catch-word  heavily,  draw 
a  red  circle  around  a  pivotal  idea,  enclose  the  key-word 
of  an  anecdote  in  a  wavy-lined  box,  and  so  on  indefi- 
nitely. These  points  are  worth  remembering,  for  nothing 
so  eludes  the  swif t-glandng  eye  of  the  speaker  as  the 
sameness  of  typewriting,  or  even  a  regular  pen-script. 
So  unintentional  a  thing  as  a  blot  on  the  page  may  help 
you  to  remember  a  big  "point"  in  your  brief — ^perhaps 
by  association  of  ideas. 

An  inexperienced  speaker  would  probably  require 
fuller  notes  than  the  specimen  given.  Yet  that  way  lies 
danger,  for  the  complete  manuscript  is  but  a  short  remove 


from  the  copious  outline.  Use  as  few  notes  as  possible. 
They  may  be  necessary  for  the  time  being,  but  do  not 
fail  to  look  upon  them  as  a  necessary  evil;  and  even  when 
you  lay  them  before  you,  refer  to  them  only  when  com- 
pelled to  do  so.  Make  your  notes  as  full  as  you  please  in 
preparation,  but  by  all  means  condense  them  for  plat- 
form use. 

Extemporaneous  Speech 

Surely  this  is  the  ideal  method  of  delivery.  It  is  far 
and  away  the  most  popular  with  the  audience,  and  the 
favorite  method  of  the  most  efficient  speakers. 

"Extemporaneous  speech"  has  sometimes  been  made 
to  mean  unprepared  speech,  and  indeed  it  is  too  often 
precisely  that;  but  in  no  such  sense  do  we  recommend 
it  strongly  to  speakers  old  and  young.  On  the  contrary, 
to  speak  well  without  notes  requires  all  the  preparation 
which  we  discussed  so  fully  in  the  chapter  on  "Fluency," 
while  yet  relying  upon  the  "inspiration  of  the  hour"  for 
some  of  your  thoughts  and  much  of  your  language.  You 
had  better  remember,  however,  that  the  most  effective 
inspiration  of  the  hour  is  the  inspiration  you  yourself 
bring  to  it,  bottled  up  in  your  spirit  and  ready  to  infuse 
itself  into  the  audience. 

If  you  extemporize  you  can  get  much  closer  to  yoiu:  audi- 
ence. In  a  sense,  they  appreciate  the  task  you  have  before 
you  and  send  out  their  sympathy.  Extemporize,  and  you 
will  not  have  to  stop  and  fiunble  around  amidst  your 
notes — ^you  can  keep  your  eye  afire  with  yoiu:  message 
and  hold  your  audience  with  your  very  glance.     You 


yourself  will  feel  their  response  as  you  read  the  effects 
of  your  warm,  spontaneous  words,  written  on  their 

Sentences  written  out  in  the  study  are  liable  to  be  dead 
and  cold  when  resurrected  before  the  audience.  When 
you  create  as  you  speak  you  conserve  all  the  native  fire 
of  your  thought.  You  can  enlarge  on  one  point  or  omit 
another,  just  as  the  occasion  or  the  mood  of  the  audience 
may  demand.  It  is  not  possible  for  every  speaker  to  use 
this,  the  most  difficult  of  all  methods  of  delivery,  and 
least  of  all  can  it  be  used  successfully  ¥7ithout  much 
practise,  but  it  is  the  ideal  towards  which  all  should  strive. 

One  danger  in  this  method  is  that  you  may  be  led  aside 
from  your  subject  into  by-paths.  To  avoid  this  peril, 
firmly  stick  to  your  mental  outline.  Practise  ^[)eaking 
from  a  memorized  brief  until  you  gain  control.  Join  a 
debating  society — talk,  talk,  TALK,  and  always  extem- 
porize. You  may  "make  a  fool  of  yourself"  once  or  twice, 
but  is  that  too  great  a  price  to  pay  for  success? 

Notes,  like  crutches,  are  only  a  sign  of  weakness.  Re- 
member that  the  power  of  your  speech  depends  to  some 
extent  upon  the  view  your  audience  holds  of  you.  Gen- 
eral Grant's  words  as  president  were  more  powerful  than 
his  words  as  a  Missouri  farmer.  If  you  would  appear  in 
the  light  of  an  authority,  be  one.  Make  notes  on  your 
brain  instead  of  on  paper. 

JoifU  Methods  of  Delivery 

A  modification  of  the  second  method  has  been  adopted 
by  many  great  speakers,  particularly  lecturers  who  are 


compelled  to  speak  on  a  ¥7ide  variety  of  subjects  day  after 
day;  such  q>eakers  often  commit  their  addresses  to 
memory  but  keep  their  manuscripts  in  flexible  book  form 
before  them,  turning  several  pages  at  a  time.  They  feel 
safer  for  having  a  sheet-anchor  to  windward — but  it  is 
an  anchor,  nevertheless,  and  hinders  rapid,  free  sailing, 
though  it  drag  never  so  lightly. 

Other  ^>eaker3  throw  out  a  still  lighter  anchor  by 
keeping  before  them  a  rather  full  outline  of  their  written 
and  conmiitted  speech. 

Others  again  write  and  commit  a  few  important  parts 
of  the  address — the  introduction,  the  conclusion,  some 
vital  argument,  some  pat  illustration — and  depend  on 
the  hour  for  the  language  of  the  rest.  This  method  is 
well  adapted  to  speaking  either  ¥rith  or  ¥rithout  notes. 

Some  speakers  read  from  manuscript  the  most  important 
parts  of  their  speeches  and  utter  the  rest  extemporane- 

Thus,  what  we  have  called  "joint  methods  of  delivery" 
are  open  to  much  personal  variation.  You  must  decide 
for  yourself  which  is  best  for  you,  for  the  occasion,  for 
your  subject,  for  your  audience — for  these  four  factors 
all  have  their  individual  claims. 

Whatever  form  you  choose,  do  not  be  so  weakly  indif- 
ferent as  to  prefer  the  easy  way — choose  the  best  way, 
whatever  it  cost  you  in  time  and  effort.  And  of  this  be 
assured:  only  the  practised  speaker  can  hope  to  gain 
both  conciseness  of  argument  and  conviction  in  manner, 
polish  of  language  and  power  in  delivery,  finish  of  style 
and  fire  in  utterance. 



1.  Which  in  your  judgment  is  the  most  suitable  fonn 
of  delivery  for  you?    Why? 

2.  What  objections  can  you  offer  to,  (a)  memorizing 
the  entire  speech;  (6)  reading  from  manuscript;  (c)  using 
notes;  (d)  speaking  from  memorized  outline  or  notes; 
(e)  any  of  the  "joint  methods"? 

3.  What  is  there  to  commend  in  delivering  a  speech 
in  any  of  the  forgoing  methods? 

4.  Can  you  suggest  any  combination  of  methods  that 
you  have  found  efficacious? 

5.  What  methods,  according  to  your  observation,  do 
most  successful  speakers  use? 

6.  Select  some  topic  from  the  list  on  page  123,  narrow 
the  theme  so  as  to  make  it  specific  (see  page  122),  and 
deliver  a  short  address,  utilizing  the  four  methods  men- 
tioned, in  four  different  deliveries  of  the  speech. 

7.  Select  one  of  the  joint  methods  and  apply  it  to  the 
delivery  of  the  same  address. 

8.  Which  method  do  you  prefer,  and  why? 

9.  From  the  list  of  subjects  in  the  Appendix  select  a 
theme  and  deliver  a  five-minute  address  ¥rithout  notes, 
but  make  careful  preparation  without  putting  your 
thoughts  on  paper. 

Note:  It  is  earnestly  hoped  that  instructors  will 
not  pass  this  stage  of  the  work  without  requiring  of  their 
students  much  practise  in  the  delivery  of  original  speeches, 
in  the  manner  that  seems,  after  some  experiment,  to  be 
best  suited  to  the  student's  gifts.  Students  who  are 
studying  alone  should  be  equally  exacting  in  demand  upon 


themselves.  One  point  is  most  important:  It  is  easy  to 
learn  to  read  a  speech,  therefore  it  is  much  more  ui^gent 
that  the  pupil  should  have  much  practise  in  speaking 
from  notes  and  speaking  without  notes.  At  this  stage,  pay 
more  attention  to  manner  than  to  matter — the  succeeding 
chapters  take  up  the  composition  of  the  address.  Be 
particularly  insistent  upon  frequerU  and  thorough  review  of 
the  principles  of  delivery  discussed  in  the  preceding 



Providence  is  always  on  the  side  of  the  last  reserve. 

— Napolbon  Bonaparte 

So  mightiest  powers  by  deepest  calms  are  fed, 
And  sleep,  how  oft,  in  things  that  gentlest  be! 

— Barry  Cornwall,  The  Sea  in  Calm. 

What  would  happen  if  you  should  overdraw  your  bank 
account?  As  a  rule  the  check  would  be  protested;  but  if 
you  were  on  friendly  terms  with  the  bank,  your  check 
might  be  honored,  and  you  would  be  called  upon  to  make 
good  the  overdraft. 

Nature  has  no  such  favorites,  therefore  extends  no 
credits.  She  is  as  relentless  as  a  gasoline  tank — ^when  the 
^'gas"  is  all  used  the  machine  stops.  It  is  as  reckless  for 
a  q>eaker  to  risk  going  before  an  audience  ¥7ithout  having 
something  in  reserve  as  it  is  for  the  motorist  to  essay  a 
long  journey  in  the  wilds  without  enough  gasoline  in  sight. 

But  in  what  does  a  speaker's  reserve  power  consist? 
In  a  well-founded  reliance  on  his  general  and  particular 
grasp  of  his  subject;  in  the  quality  of  being  alert  and 
resourceful  in  thought — ^particxilarly  in  the  ability  to 
think  while  on  his  feet;  and  in  that  self-possession  which 
makes  one  the  captain  of  all  his  own  forces,  bodily  and 

The  first  of  these  elements,  adequate  preparation,  and 


the  last,  self-reliance,  were  discussed  fully  in  the  chapters 
on  "Sdf-Confidence"  and  "Fluency,"  so  they  will  be 
touched  only  incidentally  here;  besides,  the  next  chapter 
will  take  up  specific  methods  of  preparation  for  public 
speaking.  Therefore  the  central  theme  of  this  chapter  is 
the  second  of  the  elements  of  reserve  power — Thought. 

The  Mental  Storehouse 

An  empty  mind,  like  an  empty  larder,  may  be  a  serious 
matter  or  not — ^all  will  depend  on  the  available  resources. 
If  there  is  no  food  in  the  cupboard  the  housewife  does  not 
nervously  rattle  the  empty  dishes;  she  telephones  the 
grocer.  If  you  have  no  ideas,  do  not  rattle  your  empty  ers 
and  ahSy  but  gei  some  ideas,  and  don't  speak  until  you  do 
get  them. 

This,  however,  is  not  being  what  the  old  New  England 
housekeeper  used  to  call  "forehanded."  The  real  solution 
of  the  problem  of  what  to  do  with  an  empty  head  is  never 
to  let  it  become  empty.  In  the  artesian  wells  of  Dakota 
the  water  rushes  to  the  surface  and  leaps  a  score  of  feet 
above  the  groimd.  The  secret  of  this  exuberant  flow  is  of 
course  the  great  supply  below,  crowding  to  get  out. 

What  is  the  use  of  stopping  to  prime  a  mental  piunp 
when  you  can  fill  your  life  with  the  resources  for  an 
artesian  well?  It  is  not  enough  to  have  merely  enough; 
you  must  have  more  than  enough.  Then  the  pressure  of 
your  mass  of  thought  and  feeling  will  maintain  your  flow 
of  speech  and  give  you  the  confidence  and  poise  that 
denote  reserve  power.    To  be  away  from  home  with  only 

l86         THE  ART  OF  PUBUC  SPEAKING 

the  exact  return  fare  leaves  a  great  deal  to  circumstances  t 
Reserve  power  is  magnetic.  It  does  not  consist  in 
giving  the  idea  that  you  are  holding  something  in  re- 
serve, but  rather  in  the  suggestion  that  the  audience  is 
getting  the  cream  of  your  observation,  reading,  experi- 
ence, feeling,  thought.  To  have  reserve  power,  therefore, 
you  must  have  enough  milk  of  material  on  hand  to  supply 
sufficient  cream. 

But  how  shall  we  get  the  milk?  There  are  two  ways: 
the  one  is  first-hand — ^from  the  cow;  the  other  is  second- 
hand— ^from  the  milkman. 

The  Seeing  Eye 

Some  sage  has  said:  "For  a  thousand  men  who  can 
speak,  there  is  only  one  who  can  think;  for  a  thousand 
men  who  can  think,  there  is  only  one  who  can  see."  To 
see  and  to  think  is  to  get  your  milk  from  your  own  cow. 

When  the  one  man  in  a  million  who  can  see  comes  along, 
we  call  him  Master.  Old  Mr.  Holbrook,  of  "Cranford," 
asked  his  guest  what  color  ash-buds  were  in  March;  she 
confessed  she  did  not  know,  to  which  the  old  gentleman 
answered:  "I  knew  you  didn't.  No  more  did  I — an  old 
fool  that  I  am! — ^till  this  young  man  comes  and  tells  me. 
'Black  as  ash-buds  in  March.'  And  I've  lived  all  my  life 
in  the  country.  More  shame  for  me  not  to  know.  Black; 
they  are  jet-black,  madam." 

"This  young  man"  referred  to  by  Mr.  Holbrook  was 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  said:   "I  do  not  believe  that  I 


have  ever  met  a  man  on  the  street  that  I  did  not  get  from 
him  some  element  for  a  sermon.  I  never  see  anything  in 
nature  which  does  not  work  towards  that  for  which  I  give 
the  strength  of  my  life.  The  material  for  my  sermons  is 
all  the  time  following  me  and  swarming  up  around  me." 

Instead  of  saying  only  one  man  in  a  million  can  see,  it 
would  strike  nearer  the  truth  to  say  that  none  of  us  sees 
with  perfect  understanding  more  than  a  fraction  of  what 
passes  before  our  eyes,  yet  this  faculty  of  acute  and  accu- 
rate observation  is  so  important  that  no  man  ambitious  to 
lead  can  neglect  it.  The  next  time  you  are  in  a  car,  look 
at  those  who  sit  opposite  you  and  see  what  you  can  dis- 
cover of  their  habits,  occupations,  ideals,  nationalities, 
environments,  education,  and  so  on.  You  may  not  see  a 
great  deal  the  first  time,  but  practise  will  reveal  astonish- 
ing results.  Transmute  every  incident  of  your  day  into  a 
subject  for  a  speech  or  an  illustration.  Translate  all  that 
you  see  into  terms  of  speech.  When  you  can  describe  all 
that  you  have  seen  in  definite  words,  you  are  seeing 
clearly.    You  are  becoming  the  millionth  man. 

De  Maupassant's  description  of  an  author  should  also 
fit  the  public-speaker:  ''His  eye  is  like  a  suction  pump, 
absorbing  everything;  like  a  pickpocket's  hand,  alwa3rs 
at  work.  Nothing  escapes  him.  He  is  constantly  collect- 
ing material,  gathering-up  glances,  gestures,  intentions, 
everything  that  goes  on  in  his  presence — ^the  slightest 
look,  the  least  act,  the  merest  trifle."  De  Maupassant 
was  himself  a  millionth  man,  a  Master. 

"Ruskin  took  a  common  rock-crystal  and  saw  hidden 
within  its  stolid  heart  lessons  which  have  not  yet  ceased 


to  move  men's  lives.  Beecher  stood  for  hours  before  the 
window  of  a  jewelry  store  thinking  out  analogies  between 
jewels  and  the  souls  of  men.  Gough  saw  in  a  single  drop 
of  water  enough  truth  wherewith  to  quench  the  thirst  of 
five  thousand  souls.  Thoreau  sat  so  still  in  the  shadowy 
woods  that  birds  and  insects  came  and  opened  up  their 
secret  lives  to  his  eye.  Emerson  observed  the  soul  of  a 
man  so  long  that  at  length  he  could  say,  'I  cannot  hear 
what  you  say,  for  seeing  what  you  are.'  Preyer  for  three 
years  studied  the  life  of  his  babe  and  so  became  an 
authority  upon  the  child  mind.  Observation!  Most  men 
are  blind.  There  are  a  thousand  times  as  many  hidden 
truths  and  imdiscovered  facts  about  us  to-day  as  have 
made  discoverers  famous — ^facts  waiting  for  some  one  to 
'pluck  out  the  heart  of  their  mystery.'  But  so  long  as 
men  go  about  the  search  with  eyes  that  see  not,  so  long 
will  these  hidden  pearls  lie  in  their  shells.  Not  an  orator 
but  who  could  more  effectively  point  and  feather  his 
shafts  were  he  to  search  nature  rather  thanjibraries.  Too 
few  can  see  'sermons  in  stones'  and  'books  in  the  running 
brooks,'  because  they  are  so  used  to  seeing  merely  sermons 
in  books  and  only  stones  in  running  brooks.  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  had  a  saying,  'Look  in  thy  heart  and  write;' 
Massillon  explained  his  astute  knowledge  of  the  human 
heart  by  sa3dng,  *I  learned  it  by  studying  myself;'  Bjrron 
says  of  John  Locke  that  'all  his  knowledge  of  the  human 
understanding  was  derived  from  stud)dng  his  own  mind.' 
Since  multiform  nature  is  all  about  us,  originality  ought 
not  to  be  so  rare."* 

^How  to  aUraet  and  Hold  an  Audioncer  J.  Berg  Esenwein. 


The  Thinking  Mind 

Thinking  is  doing  mental  arithmetic  with  facts.  Add 
this  fact  to  that  and  you  reach  a  certain  conclusion. 
Subtract  this  truth  from  another  and  you  have  a  definite 
result.  Multiply  this  fact  by  another  and  have  a  pre- 
cise product.  See  how  many  times  this  occurrence  hap- 
pens in  that  space  of  time  and  you  have  reached  a  cal- 
culable dividend.  In  thought-processes  you  perform 
every  known  problem  of  arithmetic  and  algebra.  That  is 
why  mathematics  are  such  excellent  mental  gjimnastics. 
But  by  the  same  token,  thinking  is  work.  Thinking  takes 
energy.  Thinking  requires  (ime,  and  patience,  and  broad 
information,  and  clearheadedness.  Beyond  a  miserable 
little  surface-scratching,  few  people  really  think  at  all — 
only  one  in  a  thousand,  according  to  the  pundit  already 
quoted.  So  long  as  the  present  system  of  education  pre- 
vails and  children  are  taught  through  the  ear  rather  than 
through  the  eye,  so  long  as  they  are  expected  to  remember 


thoughts  of  others  rather  than  think  for  themselves,  this 
proportion  will  continue — one  man  in  a  million  will  be 
able  to  see,  and  one  in  a  thousand  to  think. 

But,  however  thought-less  a  mind  has  been,  there  is 
promise  of  better  things  so  soon  as  the  mind  detects  its 
own  lack  of  thought-power.  The  first  step  is  to  stop 
r^arding  thought  as  '^the  magic  of  the  mind,"  to  use 
Byron's  expression,  and  see  it  as  thought  truly  is — a 
weighing  of  ideas  and  a  placing  of  them  in  relationships  to 
each  other.  Ponder  this  definition  and  see  if  you  have 
learned  to  think  efficiently. 


Habitual  thinking  is  just  that — a  habit.  Habit  comes 
of  doing  a  thing  repeatedly.  The  lower  habits  are  ac- 
quired easily,  the  higher  ones  require  deeper  grooves  if 
they  are  to  persist.  So  we  find  that  the  thought-habit 
comes  only  with  resolute  practise;  yet  no  effort  will 
yield  richer  dividends.  Persist  in  practise,  and  whereas 
you  have  been  able  to  think  only  an  inch-deep  into  a 
subject,  you  will  soon  find  that  you  can  penetrate  it  a 

Perhaps  this  homely  metaphor  will  suggest  how  to 
begin  the  practise  of  consecutive  thinking,  by  which  we 
mean  welding  a  number  of  separate  thoughi4inks  into  a 
chain  that  will  hold.  Take  one  link  at  a  time,  see  that  each 
naturally  belongs  ¥7ith  the  ones  you  link  to  it,  and  remem- 
ber that  a  single  missing  link  means  no  chain. 

Thinking  is  the  most  fascinating  and  exhilarating  of  all 
mental  exercises.  Once  realize  that  your  opinion  on  a 
subject  does  not  represent  the  choice  you  have  made 
between  what  Dr.  Cerebrum  has  written  and  Professor 
Cerebellum  has  said,  but  is  the  result  of  your  own  ear- 
nestly-applied brain-energy,  and  you  will  gain  a  confidence 
in  your  ability  to  speak  on  that  subject  that  nothing  will 
be  able  to  shake.  Your  thought  will  have  given  you  both 
power  and  reserve  power. 

Someone  has  condensed  the  relation  of  thought  to 
knowledge  in  these  pungent,  homely  lines: 

"  Don*t  give  me  the  man  who  thinks  he  thinks. 
Don't  give  me  the  man  who  thinks  he  knows, 

But  give  me  the  man  who  knows  he  thinks, 

And  I  have  the  man  who  knows  he  knows!" 


Reading  As  a  Stimulus  to  ThaugtU 

No  matter  how  dry  the  cow,  however,  nor  how  poor  our 
ability  to  milk,  there  is  still  the  milkman — ^we  can  read 
what  others  have  seen  and  felt  and  thought.  Often, 
indeed,  such  records  will  kindle  ¥7ithin  us  that  pre-essential 
and  vital  spark,  the  desire  to  be  a  thinker. 

The  following  selection  is  taken  from  one  of  Dr.  Newell 
D wight  Hillis's  lectures,  as  given  in  ''A  Man's  Value  to 
Society."  Dr.  Hillis  is  a  most  fluent  speaker — ^he  never 
refers  to  notes.  He  has  reserve  power.  His  mind  is  a 
veritable  treasure-house  of  facts  and  ideas.  See  how  he 
draws  from  a  knowledge  of  fifteen  different  general  or 
special  subjects:  geology,  plant  life,  Palestine,  chemistry, 
Eskimos,  mythology,  literature.  The  Nile,  history,  law, 
wit,  evolution,  religion,  biography,  and  electricity.  Surely, 
it  needs  no  sage  to  discover  that  the  secret  of  this  man's 
reserve  power  is  the  old  secret  of  our  artesian  well  whose 
abundance  surges  from  unseen  depths. 


Bach  Kingsley  approaches  a  stone  as  a  jeweler  approaches  a 
casket  to  unlock  the  hidden  gems.  Geikie  causes  the  bit  of  hard 
coal  to  unroll  the  juicy  bud,  the  thick  odorous  leaves,  the  pun- 
gent boughs,  until  the  bit  of  carbon  enlarges  into  the  beauty  of  a 
tropic  forest.  That  little  book  of  Grant  Allen's  called  "How 
Plants  Grow"  exhibits  trees  and  shrubs  as  eating,  drinking  and 
marrying.  We  see  certain  date  groves  in  Palestine,  and  other 
date  groves  in  the  desert  a  hundred  miles  away,  and  the  pollen 
of  the  one  carried  upon  the  trade  winds  to  the  branches  of  the 
other.    We  see  the  tree  with  its  strange  system  of  water-works, 

'Uiad  by  pennianon. 


pumping  the  sap  up  through  pipes  and  mains;  we  see  the 
chemical  laboratory  in  the  branches  mixing  flavor  for  the  orange 
in  one  bough,  mixing  the  juices  of  the  pineapple  in  another;  we 
behold  the  tree  as  a  mother  making  each  infant  acorn  ready 
against  the  long  winter,  rolling  it  in  swaths  soft  and  warm  as 
wool  blankets,  wrapping  it  around  with  garments  impervious  to 
the  rain,  and  finally  slipping  the  infant  acorn  into  a  sleeping  bag, 
like  those  the  Eskimos  gave  Dr.  Kane. 

At  length  we  come  to  feel  that  the  Greeks  were  not  far  wrong 
in  thinking  each  tree  had  a  dryad  in  it,  animating  it,  protecting 
it  against  destruction,  dying  when  the  tree  withered.  Some 
Faraday  shows  us  that  each  drop  of  water  is  a  sheath  for  electric 
forces  sufficient  to  charge  800,000  Leyden  jars,  or  drive  an 
engine  from  Liverpool  to  London.  Some  Sir  William  Thomson 
tells  us  how  hydrogen  gas  will  chew  up  a  large  iron  spike  as  a 
child's  molars  will  chew  off  the  end  of  a  stick  of  candy.  Thus 
each  new  book  opens  up  some  new  and  hitherto  unexplored 
realm  of  nature.  Thus  books  fulfill  for  us  the  legend  of  the 
wondrous  glass  that  showed  its  owner  all  things  distant  and 
all  things  hidden.  Through  books  our  world  becomes  as  "a 
bud  from  the  bower  of  God's  beauty;  the  sun  as  a  spark  from 
the  light  of  His  wisdom;  the  sky  as  a  bubble  on  the  sea  of  His 
Power."  Therefore  Mrs.  Browning's  words,  "No  child  can  be 
called  fatherless  who  has  God  and  his  mother;  no  youth  can  be 
called  friendless  who  has  God  and  the  companionship  of  good 

Books  also  advantage  us  in  that  they  exhibit  the  tmity  of 
progress,  the  solidarity  of  the  race,  and  the  continuity  of  history. 
Authors  lead  us  back  along  the  pathway  of  law,  of  liberty  or 
religion,  and  set  us  down  in  front  of  the  great  man  in  whose 
brain  the  principle  had  its  rise.  As  the  discoverer  leads  us  from 
the  mouth  of  the  Nile  back  to  the  headwaters  of  Nyanza,  so 
books  exhibit  great  ideas  and  institutions,  as  they  move  for- 
ward, ever  widening  and  deepening,  like  some  Nile  feeding 
many  civilizations.  For  all  the  reforms  of  to-day  go  back  to 
some  reform  of  yesterday.  Man's  art  goes  back  to  Athens  and 
Thebes.  Man's  laws  go  back  to  Blackstone  and  Justinian.  Man's 
reapers  and  plows  go  back  to  the  savage  scratching  the  ground 
with  his  forked  stick,  drawn  by  the  wild  bullock.    The  heroes  of 


liberty  march  forward  in  a  solid  column.  Lincoln  grasps  the 
hand  of  Washington.  Washington  received  his  weapons  at  the 
hands  of  Hampden  and  Cromwell.  The  great  Puritans  lock 
hands  with  Luther  and  Savonarola. 

The  unbroken  procession  brings  us  at  length  to  Him  whose 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  was  the  very  charter  of  liberty.  It  puts 
us  imder  a  divine  spell  to  perceive  that  we  are  all  coworkers 
with  the  great  men,  and  yet  single  threads  in  the  warp  and 
woof  of  civilization.  And  when  books  have  related  us  to  our 
own  age,  and  related  all  the  epochs  to  God,  whose  providence  is 
the  gulf  stream  of  history,  these  teachers  go  on  to  stimulate  us 
to  new  and  greater  achievements.  Alone,  man  is  an  unlighted 
candle.  The  mind  needs  some  book  to  kindle  its  faculties. 
Before  Byron  began  to  write  he  used  to  give  half  an  hour  to  read- 
ing some  favorite  passage.  The  thought  of  some  great  writer 
never  failed  to  kindle  Byron  into  a  creative  glow,  even  £is  a 
match  lights  the  kindlings  upon  the  grate.  In  these  btuning, 
luminous  moods  Byron's  mind  did  its  best  work.  The  true  book 
stimulates  the  mind  as  no  wine  can  ever  quicken  the  blood.  It 
is  reading  that  brings  us  to  our  best,  and  rouses  each  faculty  to 
its  most  vigorous  life. 

We  recognize  this  as  pure  cream,  and  if  it  seems  at  first 
to  have  its  secondary  source  in  the  friendly  milkman,  let 
us  not  forget  that  the  theme  is  ''The  Uses  of  Books  and 
Reading."    Dr.  Hillis  both  sees  and  thinks. 

It  is  fashionable  just  now  to  decry  the  value  of  reading. 
We  read,  we  are  told,  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  thinking  / 

for  ourselves.    Books  are  for  the  mentally  lazy. 

Though  this  is  only  a  half-truth,  the  element  of  truth 
it  contains  is  large  enough  to  make  us  pause.  Put  your- 
self through  a  good  old  Presbyterian  soul-searching  self- 
examination,  and  if  reading-from-thought-laziness  is  one 
of  your  sins,  confess  it.  No  one  can  shrive  you  of  it — 
but  yourself.   Do  penance  for  it  by  using  your  own  brains, 


for  it  is  a  transgression  that  dwarfs  the  growth  of  thought 
and  destroys  mental  freedom.  At  first  the  penance  will 
be  trying — but  at  the  last  you  will  be  glad  in  it. 

Reading  should  entertain,  give  information,  or  stimulate 
thought.  Here,  however,  we  are  chiefly  concerned  with 
information,  and  stimulation  of  thought. 

What  shall  I  read  for  information? 

The  ample  page  of  knowledge,  as  Grey  tells  us,  is  "rich 
with  the  spoils  of  time,"  and  these  are  ours  for  the  price 
of  a  theatre  ticket.  You  may  conmiand  Socrates  and 
Marcus  Aurelius  to  sit  beside  you  and  discourse  of  their 
choicest,  hear  Lincoln  at  Gett3rsburg  and  Pericles  at 
Athens,  storm  the  Bastile  with  Hugo,  and  wander  through 
Paradise  with  Dante.  You  may  explore  darkest  Africa 
with  Stanley,  penetrate  the  himian  heart  with  Shakes- 
peare, chat  with  Carlyle  about  heroes,  and  delve  with 
the  Apostle  Paul  into  the  m3rsteries  of  faith.  The 
general  knowledge  and  the  inspiring  ideas  that  men 
have  collected  through  ages  of  toil  and  experiment 
are  yours  for  the  asking.  The  Sage  of  Chelsea  was 
right:  "The  true  imiversity  of  these  days  is  a  collection 
of  books." 

To  master  a  worth-while  book  is  to  master  much  else 
besides;  few  of  us,  however,  make  perfect  conquest  of  a 
volume  without  first  owning  it  physically.  To  read  a 
borrowed  book  may  be  a  joy,  but  to  assign  your  own  book 
a  place  of  its  own  on  your  own  shelves — be  they  few  or 
many — ^to  love  the  book  and  fed  of  its  worn  cover,  to 
thumb  it  over  slowly,  page  by  page,  to  pencil  its  margins 
in  agreement  or  in  protest,  to  smile  or  thrill  with  its 


remembered  pmigendes — ^no  mere  book  borrower  could 
ever  sense  all  that  delight. 

The  reader  who  possesses  books  in  this  double  sense 
finds  also  that  his  books  possess  him,  and  the  volimies 
which  most  firmly  grip  his  life  are  likely  to  be  those  it  has 
cost  him  some  sacrifice  to  own.  Those  lightly-come-by 
titles,  which  Mr.  Fatpurse  selects,  perhaps  by  proxy,  can 
scarcely  play  the  guide,  philosopher  and  friend  in  crucial 
moments  as  do  the  books — ^long  coveted,  joyously  attained 
— that  are  welcomed  into  the  Uves,  and  not  merely  the 
libraries,  of  us  others  who  are  at  once  poorer  and  richer. 

So  it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  of  all  the  many 
wa3rs  in  which  an  owned — a  mastered — ^book  is  like  to  a 
himian  friend,  the  truest  ways  are  these:  A  friend  is  worth 
making  sacrifices  for,  both  to  gain  and  to  keep;  and  our 
loves  go  out  most  dearly  to  those  into  whose  inmost  lives 
we  have  sincerely  entered. 

When  you  have  not  the  advantage  of  the  test  of  time 
by  which  to  judge  books,  investigate  as  thoroughly  as 
possible  the  authority  of  the  books  you  read.  Much  that 
is  printed  and  passes  current  is  counterfeit.  '*I  read  it 
in  a  book"  is  to  many  a  sufficient  warranty  of  truth,  but 
not  to  the  thinker.  "What  book?"  asks  the  careful 
mind.  ''Who  wrote  it?  What  does  he  know  about  the 
subject  and  what  right  has  he  to  speak  on  it?  Who 
recognizes  him  as  authority?  With  what  other  recognized 
authorities  does  he  agree  or  disagree?"  Being  caught 
trying  to  pass  counterfeit  money,  even  unintentionally, 
is  an  unpleasant  situation.  Beware  lest  you  circulate 
spurious  coin. 


Above  all,  seek  reading  that  makes  you  use  your  own 
brains.  Such  reading  must  be  alive  with  fresh  points  of 
view,  packed  with  special  knowledge,  and  deal  with  sub- 
jects of  vital  interest.  Do  not  confine  your  reading  to 
what  you  already  know  you  will  agree  with.  Opposition 
wakes  one  up.  The  other  road  may  be  the  better,  but 
you  will  never  know  it  unless  you  "give  it  the  once  over." 
Do  not  do  all  your  thinking  and  investigating  in  front  of 
given  "Q.  E.  D.'s;"  merely  assembling  reasons  to  fill  in 
between  your  theorem  and  what  you  want  to  prove  will 
get  you  nowhere.  Approach  each  subject  with  an  open 
mind  and — once  sure  that  you  have  thought  it  out  thor- 
oughly and  honestly — ^have  the  courage  to  abide  by  the 
decision  of  your  own  thought.  But  don't  brag  about  it 

No  book  on  public  speaking  will  enable  you  to  discourse 
on  the  tariff  if  you  know  nothing  about  the  tariff.  Know- 
ing more  about  it  than  the  other  man  will  be  your  only 
hope  for  making  the  other  man  listen  to  you. 

Take  a  group  of  men  discussing  a  governmental  policy 
of  which  some  one  says:  "It  is  socialistic."  That  will 
commend  the  policy  to  Mr.  A.,  who  believes  in  socialism, 
but  condemn  it  to  Mr.  B.,  who  does  not.  It  may  be  that 
neither  had  considered  the  poUcy  beyond  noticing  that  its 
surface-color  was  sodaUstic.  The  chances  are,  further- 
more, that  neither  Mr.  A.  nor  Mr.  B.  has  a  definite  idea 
of  what  socialism  really  is,  for  as  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
says,  "Man  lives  not  by  bread  alone  but  chiefly  by  catch 
words."  If  you  are  of  this  group  of  men,  and  have  ob- 
served this  proposed  government  policy,  and  investigated 


it,  and  thought  about  it,  what  you  have  to  say  cannot 
fail  to  command  their  respect  and  approval,  for  you  will 
have  shown  them  that  you  possess  a  grasp  of  your  subject 
and — to  adopt  an  exceedingly  expressive  bit  of  slang — 
then  some. 


I.  Robert  Houdin  trained  his  son  to  give  one  swift 
glance  at  a  shop  window  in  passing  and  be  able  to  report 
accurately  a  surprising  number  of  its  contents.  Try  this 
several  times  on  different  windows  and  report  the  result. 

3.  What  effect  does  reserve  power  have  on  an  audi- 

3.  What  are  the  best  methods  for  acquiring  reserve 

4.  What  is  the  danger  of  too  much  reading? 

5.  Analyze  some  speech  that  you  have  read  or  heard 
and  notice  how  much  real  information  there  is  in  it.  Com- 
pare it  with  Dr.  Hillis's  speech  on  ''Brave  Little  Belgium," 
page  394. 

6.  Write  out  a  three-minute  speech  on  any  subject 
you  choose.  How  much  information,  and  what  new  ideas, 
does  it  contain?  Compare  your  speech  with  the  extract 
on  page  191  from  Dr.  Hillis's  "The  Uses  of  Books  and 

7.  Have  you  ever  read  a  book  on  the  practise  of 
thinking?    If  so,  give  your  impressions  of  its  value. 

Note:  There  are  a  number  of  excellent  books  on  the 
subject  of  thought  and  the  management  of  thought.  The 
f (blowing  are  recommended  as  being  especially  helpful: 

198         THE  ART  OF  PUBUC  SPEAKING 

'' Thinking  and  Learning  to  Think/'  Nathan  C.  Scfaaeffer; 
"Talks  to  Students  on  the  Art  of  Study,"  Cramer;  "As 
a  Man  Thinketh/'  Allen. 

8.    Define  (a)  logic;  (b)  mental  philosophy  (or  mental 
science);  (c)  psychology;  (d)  abstract 



Suit  your  topics  to  your  strength. 
And  ponder  well  your  subject,  and  its  length; 
Nor  lift  your  load,  before  you're  quite  aware 
What  weight  your  shoulders  will,  or  will  not,  bear. 

— Byron,  Hints  from  Horace. 

Look  to  this  day,  for  it  is  life — ^the  very  life  of  life.  In  its  brief 
course  lie  all  the  verities  and  realities  of  your  existence:  the 
bliss  of  growth,  the  glory  of  action,  the  splendor  of  beauty.  For 
yesterday  is  already  a  dream  and  tomorrow  is  only  a  vision;  but 
today,  well  lived,  makes  every  yesterday  a  dream  of  happiness 
and  every  tomorrow  a  vision  of  hope.  Look  well,  therefore,  to 
this  day.    Such  is  the  salutation  of  the  dawn. 

— From  the  Sanskrit. 

In  the  chapter  preceding  we  have  seen  the  influence  of 
^'Thought  and  Reserve  Power"  on  general  prq)aredness 
for  public  speech.  But  prq)aration  consists  in  something 
more  definite  than  the  cultivation  of  thought-power, 
whether  from  original  or  from  borrowed  sources — it  in- 
volves a  spedficatty  acquisitive  attitude  of  the  whole  life. 
If  you  would  become  a  full  soul  you  must  constantly  take 
in  and  assimilate,  for  in  that  way  only  may  you  hope  to 
give  out  that  which  is  worth  the  hearing;  but  do  not  con- 
fuse the  acquisition  of  general  information  with  the  mas- 
tery of  specific  knowledge.  Information  consists  of  a  fact 
or  a  group  of  facts;  knowledge  is  organized  information — 
knowledge  knows  a  fact  in  relation  to  other  facts. 


Now  the  important  thing  here  is  that  you  should  set 
all  your  faculties  to  take  in  the  things  about  you  with  the 
particular  object  of  correlating  them  and  storing  them  for 
use  in  public  speech.  You  must  hear  with  the  speaker's 
ear,  see  with  the  speaker's  eye,  and  choose  books  and  com- 
panions and  sights  and  sounds  with  the  ^>eaker's  purp)ose 
in  view.  At  the  same  time,  be  ready  to  receive  unplanned- 
for  knowledge.  One  of  the  fascinating  elements  in  your 
life  as  a  public  speaker  will  be  the  conscious  growth  in 
power  that  casual  daily  experiences  bring.  If  your  eyes 
are  alert  you  will  be  constantly  discovering  facts,  illus- 
trations, and  ideas  without  having  set  out  in  search  of 
them.  These  all  may  be  turned  to  account  on  the  plat- 
form; even  the  leaden  events  of  hum-drum  daily  life  may 
be  melted  into  bullets  for  future  battles. 

Conservation  of  Time  in  PreparcUion 

But,  you  say,  I  have  so  little  time  for  preparation — ^my 
mind  must  be  absorbed  by  other  matters.  Daniel  Webster 
never  let  an  opportunity  pass  to  gather  material  for  his 
speeches.  When  he  was  a  boy  working  in  a  sawmill  he 
read  out  of  a  book  in  one  hand  and  busied  himself  at  some 
mechanical  task  with  the  other.  In  youth  Patrick  Henry 
roamed  the  fields  and  woods  in  solitude  for  da3rs  at  a  time 
unconsciously  gathering  material  and  impressions  for  his 
later  service  as  a  speaker.  Dr.  Russell  H.  Conwell,  the 
man  who,  the  late  Charles  A.  Dana  said,  had  addressed 
more  hearers  than  any  living  man,  used  to  memorize  long 
passages  from  Milton  while  tending  the  boiling  syrup- 
pans  in  the  silent  New  England  woods  at  night.    The 


modem  employer  would  discharge  a  Webster  of  today  for 
inattention  to  duty,  and  doubtless  he  would  be  justified, 
and  Patrick  Henry  seemed  only  an  idle  chap  even  in  those 
easy-going  days;  but  the  truth  remains:  those  who  take 
in  power  and  have  the  purpose  to  use  it  efficiently  will 
some  day  win  to  the  place  in  which  that  stored-up  power 
will  revolve  great  wheels  of  influence. 

Napoleon  said  that  quarter  hours  decide  the  destinies 
of  nations.  How  many  quarter  hours  do  we  let  drift  by 
aimlessly!  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  conserved  o^  his  time; 
eoery  experience  became  capital  for  his  work — ^for  capital 
may  be  defined  as  "the  results  of  labor  stored  up  to  assist 
future  production."  He  continually  tried  to  put  into 
suitable  language  the  scenes  and  actions  that  were  in  evi- 
dence about  him.  Emerson  says:  "Tomorrow  will  be 
like  today.  Life  wastes  itself  whilst  we  are  preparing  to 

Why  wait  for  a  more  convenient  season  for  this  broad, 
general^preparation?  The  fifteen  minutes  that  we  spend 
on  the  car  could  be  profitably  turned  into  speech-capital. 

Procure  a  cheap  edition  of  modem  speeches,  and  by 
cutting  out  a  few  pages  each  day,  and  reading  them  during 
the  idle  minute  here  and  there,  note  how  soon  you  can 
make  yourself  familiar  with  the  world's  best  speeches. 
If  you  do  not  wish  to  mutilate  your  book,  take  it  with 
you — ^most  of  the  epoch-making  books  are  now  printed 
in  small  volumes.  The  daily  waste  of  natural  gas  in  the 
Oklahoma^fields  is  equal  to  ten  thousand  tons  of  coal. 
Only  about  three  per  cent  of  the  power  of  the  coal  that 
enters  the|fumace  ever  diffuses  itself  from  your  electric 


bulb  as  light — ^the  other  ninety-seven  per  cent  is  wasted. 
Yet  these  wastes  are  no  larger,  nor  more  to  be  lamented, 
than  the  tremendous  waste  of  time  which,  if  conserved, 
would  increase  the  speaker's  powers  to  their  nih  degree. 
Scientists  are  making  three  ears  of  com  grow  where  one 
grew  before;  efficiency  engineers  are  eliminating  useless 
motions  and  products  from  our  factories:  catch  the  spirit  of 
the  age  and  apply  efficiency  to  the  use  of  the  most  valuable 
asset  you  possess — time.  What  do  you  do  mentally  with 
the  time  you  spend  in  dressing  or  in  shaving?  Take  some 
subject  and  concentrate  your  energies  on  it  for  a  week 
by  utilizing  just  the  spare  moments  that  would  otherwise 
be  wasted.  You  will  be  amazed  at  the  result.  One  pas- 
sage a  day  from  the  Book  of  Books,  one  golden  ingot  from 
some  master  mind,  one  fully-possessed  thought  of  your  own 
might  thus  be  added  to  the  treasury  of  your  life.  Do  not 
waste  your  time  in  ways  that  profit  you  nothing.  Fill 
"the  unforgiving  minute"  with  "sixty  seconds'  worth  of 
distance  run"  and  on  the  platform  you  will  be  immeasura- 
bly the  gainer. 

Let  no  word  of  this,  however,  seem  to  decry  the  value 
of  recreation.  Nothing  is  more  vital  to  a  worker  than 
rest — ^yet  nothing  is  so  vitiating  to  the  shirker.  Be  sure 
that  your  recreation  re-creates.  A  pause  in  the  midst  of 
labors  gathers  strength  for  new  effort.  The  mistake  b  to 
pause  too  long,  or  to  fill  your  pauses  with  ideas  that  make 

life  flabby. 

Choosing  a  Subject 

Subject  and  materiab  tremendously  influence  each 


''This  arises  from  the  fact  that  there  are  two  distinct 
ways  in  which  a  subject  may  be  chosen:  by  arbitrary 
choice,  or  by  development  from  thought  and  reading. 

"Arbitrary  choice  ....  of  one  subject  from  among 
a  number  involves  so  many  important  considerations  that 
no  speaker  ever  fails  to  appreciate  the  tone  of  satisfaction 
in  him  who  triumphantly  announces:  'I  have  a  subject!' 

"  'Do  give  me  a  subject!'  How  often  the  weary  school 
teacher  hears  that  cry.  Then  a  list  of  themes  is  suggested, 
gone  over,  considered,  and,  in  most  instances,  rejected, 
because  the  teacher  can  know  but  imperfectly  what  is 
in  the  pupil's  mind.  To  suggest  a  subject  in  this  way  is 
like  tr3dng  to  discover  the  street  on  which  a  lost  child  lives, 
by  naming  over  a  number  of  streets  until  one  strikes  the 
little  one's  ear  as  sounding  familiar. 

"Choice  by  development  is  a  very  different  process. 
It  does  not  ask,  What  shall  I  say?  It  tiuns  the  mind  in 
upon  itself  and  asks,  What  do  I  think?  Thus,  the  subject 
may  be  said  to  choose  itself,  for  in  the  process  of  thought 
or  of  reading  one  theme  rises  into  prominence  and  becomes 
a  living  germ,  soon  to  grow  into  the  discourse.  He  who 
has  not  learned  to  reflect  is  not  really  acquainted  with  his 
own  thoughts;  hence,  his  thoughts  are  not  productive. 
Habits  of  reading  and  reflection  will  supply  the  speaker's 
mind  with  an  abtmdance  of  subjects  of  which  he  already 
knows  something  from  the  very  reading  and  reflection 
which  gave  birth  to  his  theme.  This  is  not  a  paradox,  but 
sober  truth. 

"  It  must  be  already  i^parent  that  the  choice  of  a  subject 
by  development  savors  more  of  collection  than  of  con- 


scious  selection.  The  subject  'pops  into  the  mind.' 
•  .  .  .  In  the  intellect  of  the  trained  thinker  it  con- 
centrates— ^by  a  process  which  we  have  seen  to  be  induc- 
tion— ^the  facts  and  truths  of  which  he  has  been  reading 
and  thinking.  This  is  most  often  a  gradual  process.  The 
scattered  ideas  may  be  but  vaguely  connected  at  first,  but 
more  and  more  they  concentrate  and  take  on  a  single  form, 
until  at  length  one  strong  idea  seems  to  grasp  the  soul 
with  irresistible  force,  and  to  cry  aloud,  'Arise,  I  am  your 
theme!  Henceforth,  until  you  transmute  me  by  the 
alchemy  of  your  inward  fire  into  vital  speech,  you  shall 
know  no  rest!'  Happy,  then,  is  that  speaker,  for  he  has 
found  a  subject  that  grips  him. 

"Of  course,  experienced  speakers  use  both  methods  of 
selection.  Even  a  reading  and  reflective  man  is  sometimes 
compelled  to  hunt  for  a  theme  from  Dan  to  Beersheba, 
and  then  the  task  of  gathering  materials  becomes  a  serious 
one.  But  even  in  such  a  case  there  is  a  sense  in  which  the 
selection  comes  by  development,  because  no  careful 
speaker  settles  upon  a  theme  which  does  not  represent 
at  least  some  matured  thought."^ 

Deciding  on  the  Subject  MaUer 

Even  when  your  theme  has  been  chosen  for  you  by 
someone  else,  there  remains  to  you  a  considerable  field 
for  choice  of  subject  matter.  The  same  considerations, 
in  fact,  that  would  govern  you  in  choosing  a  theme  must 
guide  in  the  selection  of  the  material.  Ask  yoxirself- 
someone  else — such  questions  as  these: 

^Bovo  to  AUrael  and  Hold  an  AudiencSt  J.  Berg  Eaenwein. 


What  is  the  precise  nature  of  the  occasion?  How  large 
an  audience  may  be  expected?  From  what  walks  of  life 
do  they  come?  What  is  their  probable  attitude  toward 
the  theme?  Who  else  will  speak?  Do  I  speak  first,  last, 
or  where,  on  the  program?  What  are  the  other  speakers 
going  to  talk  about?  What  is  the  nature  of  the  audi- 
torium? Is  there  a  desk?  Could  the  subject  be  more 
effectively  handled  if  somewhat  modified?  Precisely 
how  much  time  am  I  to  fill? 

It  is  evident  that  many  speech-misfits  of  subject, 
speaker,  occasion  and  place  are  due  to  failiure  to  ask  just 
such  pertinent  questions.  What  should  be  said,  by  whom, 
and  in  what  circumstances,  constitute  ninety  per  cent  of 
efficiency  in  public  address.  No  matter  who  asks  you, 
refuse  to  be  a  square  peg  in  a  round  hole. 

Questions  of  Proportion 

Proportion  in  a  speech  is  attained  by  a  nice  adjustment 
of  time.  How  fully  you  may  treat  your  subject  it  is  not 
alwa}^  for  you  to  say.  Let  ten  minutes  mean  neither 
nine  nor  eleven — ^though  better  nine  than  eleven,  at  all 
events.  You  wouldn't  steal  a  man's  watch;  no  more 
should  you  steal  the  time  of  the  succeeding  speaker,  or 
that  of  the  audience.  There  is  no  need  to  overstep  time- 
limits  if  you  make  your  preparation  adequate  and  divide 
your  subject  so  as  to  give  each  thought  its  due  proportion 
of  attention — and  no  more.  Blessed  is  the  man  that 
maketh  short  speeches,  for  he  shall  be  invited  to  speak 

Another  matter  of  prime  importance  is,  what  part  of 


your  address  demands  the  most  emphasis.  This  once 
decided,  you  will  know  where  to  place  that  pivotal  section 
so  as  to  give  it  the  greatest  strategic  value,  and  what 
degree  of  prq)aration  must  be  given  to  that  central  thought 
so  that  the  vital  part  may  not  be  submerged  by  non- 
essentials. Many  a  speaker  has  awakened  to  find  that  he 
has  burnt  up  eight  minutes  of  a  ten-minute  speech  in 
merely  getting  up  steam.  That  is  like  spending  eighty  per 
cent  of  your  building-money  on  the  vestibule  of  the  house. 
The  same  sense  of  proportion  must  tell  you  to  stop 
precisely  when  you  are  through — ^and  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  you  will  discover  the  arrival  of  that  period  before 
your  audience  does. 

Tapping  Original  Sources 

The  surest  way  to  give  life  to  speech-material  is  to 
gather  your  facts  at  first  hand.  Your  words  come  with 
the  weight  of  authority  when  you  can  say,  "I  have 
examined  the  emplo3rment  rolls  of  every  mill  in  this  dis- 
trict and  find  that  thirty-two  per  cent  of  the  children  em- 
ployed are  under  the  legal  age."  No  citation  of  authorities 
can  equal  that.  You  must  adopt  the  methods  of  the 
reporter  and  find  out  the  facts  underlying  your  argument 
or  appeal.  To  do  so  may  prove  laborious,  but  it  should 
not  be  irksome,  for  the  great  world  of  fact  teems  with 
interest,  and  over  and  above  all  is  the  sense  of  power  that 
will  come  to  you  from  original  investigation.  To  see  and 
feel  the  facts  you  are  discussing  will  react  upon  you  much 
more  powerfully  than  if  you  were  to  secure  the  facts  at 
second  hand. 


Live  an  active  life  among  people  who  are  doing  worth- 
while things,  keep  eyes  and  ears  and  mind  and  heart  open 
to  absorb  truth,  and  then  tell  of  the  things  you  know,  as 
if  you  know  them.  The  world  will  listen,  for  the  world 
loves  nothing  so  much  as  real  life. 

Hew  to  Use  a  Library 

Unsuspected  treasures  lie  in  the  smallest  library.  Even 
when  the  owner  has  read  every  last  page  of  his  books  it  is 
only  in  rare  instances  that  he  has  full  indexes  to  all  of  them, 
either  in  his  mind  or  on  paper,  so  as  to  make  available  the 
vast  number  of  varied  subjects  touched  upon  or  treated 
in  volumes  whose  titles  would  never  suggest  such  topics. 

For  this  reason  it  is  a  good  thing  to  take  an  odd  hour 
now  and  then  to  browse.  Take  down  one  volume  after 
another  and  look  over  its  table  of  contents  and  its  index. 
(It  is  a  reproach  to  any  author  of  a  serious  book  not  to 
have  provided  a  full  index,  with  cross  references.)  Then 
glance  over  the  pages,  making  notes,  mental  or  physical, 
of  material  that  looks  interesting  and  usable.  Most 
libraries  contain  volimies  that  the  owner  is  "going  to  read 
some  day."  A  familiarity  with  even  the  contents  of  such 
books  on  your  own  shelves  will  enable  you  to  refer  to  them 
when  you  want  help.  Writings  read  long  ago  should  be 
treated  in  the  same  way — ^in  every  chapter  some  surprise 
lurks  to  delight  you. 

In  looking  up  a  subject  do  not  be  discouraged  if  you  do 
not  find  it  indexed  or  outlined  in  the  table  of  contents — 
you  are  pretty  sure  to  discover  some  material  under  a 
related  title. 


Suppose  you  set  to  work  somewhat  in  this  way  to 
gather  references  on  "Thinking:"  First  you  look  over 
your  book  titles,  and  there  is  SchaeflFer's  "Thinking  and 
Learning  to  Think."  Near  it  is  Ejramer's  "Talks  to 
Students  on  the  Art  of  Study" — ^that  seems  likely  to  pro- 
vide some  material,  and  it  does.  Naturally  you  think 
next  of  your  book  on  psychology,  and  there  is  help  there. 
If  you  have  a  volume  on  the  human  intellect  you  will  have 
already  turned  to  it.  Suddenly  you  remember  your 
encyclopedia  and  your  dictionary  of  quotations — and 
now  material  fairly  rains  upon  you;  the  problem  is  what 
fiot  to  use.  In  the  encyclopedia  you  turn  to  every  reference 
that  includes  or  touches  or  even  suggests  "thinking;'^ 
and  in  the  dictionary  of  quotations  you  do  the  same.  The 
latter  volume  you  find  peculiarly  helpful  because  it  sug- 
gests several  volumes  to  you  that  are  on  your  own  shelves 
— ^you  never  would  have  thought  to  look  in  them  for  refer- 
ences on  this  subject.  Even  fiction  will  supply  help,  but 
especially  books  of  essays  and  biography.  Be  aware  of 
your  own  resources. 

To  make  a  general  index  to  your  library  does  away  with 
the  necessity  for  indexing  individual  volumes  that  are 
not  already  indexed. 

To  begin  with,  keep  a  note-book  by  you;  or  small  cards 
and  paper  cuttings  in  your  pocket  and  on  your  desk  will 
serve  as  well.  The  same  note-book  that  records  the  im- 
pressions of  your  own  experiences  and  thoughts  will  be 
enriched  by  the  ideas  of  others. 

To  be  sure,  this  note-book  habit  means  labor,  but 
remember  that  more  speeches  have  been  spoiled  by  half- 


hearted  preparation  than  by  lack  of  talent.  Laziness  is 
an  own-brother  to  Over-confidence,  and  both  are  your 
inveterate  enemies,  though  they  pretend  to  be  soothing 

Conserve  your  material  by  indexing  every  good  idea 
on  cards,  thus: 


CPrrgau4-(jJ  S.,  6yw-.  lb 

On  the  card  illustrated  above,  clippings  are  indexed  by 
giving  the  niunber  of  the  envelope  in  which  they  are  filed. 
The  envelopes  may  be  of  any  size  desired  and  kept  in  any 
convenient  receptable.  On  the  foregoing  example,  "Pro- 
gress of  S.,  Envelope  i6,"  will  represent  a  clipping,  filed 
in  Envelope  16,  which  is,  of  course,  numbered  arbitrarily. 

The  fractions  refer  to  books  in  your  library — ^the  niunera- 
tor  being  the  book-number,  the  denominator  referring  to 
the  page.  Thus,  "S.  a  fallacy,  ^"  refers  to  page  210  of 
volume  96  in  your  library.  By  some  arbitrary  sign — say 
red  ink — ^you  may  even  index  a  reference  in  a  public 
library  book. 

If  you  preserve  your  magazines,  important  articles  may 
be  indexed  by  month  and  year.    An  entire  volume  on  a 


subject  may  be  indicated  like  the  imaginary  book  by 
"Forbes."  If  you  clip  the  articles,  it  is  better  to  index 
them  according  to  the  envelope  system. 

Your  own  writings  and  notes  may  be  filed  in  envelopes 
with  the  clippings  or  in  a  separate  series. 

Another  good  indexing  system  combines  the  library 
index  with  the  ''scrap/'  or  clipping,  system  by  making  the 
outside  of  the  envelope  serve  the  same  purpose  as  the 
card  for  the  indexing  of  books,  magazines,  clippings  and 
manuscripts,  the  latter  two  classes  of  material  being 
enclosed  in  the  envelopes  that  index  them,  and  all  filed 

When  your  cards  acciunulate  so  as  to  make  ready  ref- 
erence difficult^under  a  single  alphabet,  you  may  subdivide 
each  letter  by  subordinate  guide  cards  marked  by  the 
vowels.  A,  E,  I,  O,  U.  Thus,  "Antiquities"  would  be 
filed- imder  i  in  A,  because  A  begins  the  word,  and  the 
second  letter,  n,  comes  after  the  vowel  i  in  the  alphabet, 
but  before  o.  In  the  same  manner,  "Beecher"  would  be 
filed  under  e  in  B;  and  "Hydrogen"  would  come  under 


OuUining  the  Address 

No  one  can  advise  you  how  to  prepare  the  notes  for  an 
address.  Some  speakers  get  the  best  results  while  walking 
out  and  ruminating,  jotting  down  notes  as  they  pause  in 
their  walk.  Others  never  put  pen  to  paper  until  the  whole 
speech  has  been  thought  out.  The  great  majority,  how- 
ever, will  take  notes,  classify  their  notes,  write  a  hasty 
first  draft,  and  then  revise  the  speech.  Try  each  of  these 
methods  and  choose  the  one  that  is  best— /or  you.    Do 


not  allow  any  man  to  force  you  to  work  in  his  way;  but 
do  not  n^lect  to  consider  his  way,  for  it  may  be  better 
than  your  own. 

For  those  who  make  notes  and  with  their  aid  write  out 
the  s[)eech,  these  suggestions  may  prove  helpful: 

After  having  read  and  thought  enough,  classify  your 
notes  by  setting  down  the  big,  central  thoughts  of  your 
material  on  separate  cards  or  slips  of  paper.  These  will 
stand  in  the  same  relation  to  your  subject  as  chapters  do 
to  a  book. 

Then  arrange  these  main  ideas  or  heads  in  such  an  order 
that  they  will  lead  effectively  to  the  result  you  have  in 
mind,  so  that  the  speech  may  rise  in  argument,  in  interest, 
in  power,  by  piling  one  fact  or  appeal  upon  another  until 
the  dimax — the  highest  point  of  influence  on  your  audi- 
ence— ^has  been  reached. 

Next  group  all  your  ideas,  facts,  anecdotes,  and  illus- 
trations under  the  foregoing  main  heads,  each  where  it 
naturally  belongs. 

You  now  have  a  skeleton  or  outline  of  your  address 
that  in  its  poUshed  form  might  serve  either  as  the  brief,  or 
manuscript  notes,  for  the  s[)eech  or  as  the  guide-outline 
which  you  will  expand  into  the  written  address,  if  written 
it  is  to  be. 

Imagine  each  of  the  main  ideas  in  the  brief  on  page  213 
as  being  separate;  then  picture  your  mind  as  sorting  them 
out  and  placing  them  in  order;  finally,  conceive  of  how 
you  would  fill  in  the  facts  and  examples  under  each  head, 
giving  special  prominence  to  those  you  wish  to  emphasize 
and  subduing  those  of  less  moment.   In  the  end,  you  have 


the  outline  complete.  The  simplest  form  of  outline — ^not 
very  suitable  for  use  on  the  platform,  however — is  the 


What  prosperity  means. — ^The  real  tests  of  prosperity. — 
Its  basis  in  the  soil. — American  agricultural  progress. — 
New  interest  in  farming. — Enormous  value  of  our  agri- 
cultural products. — Reciprocal  eflfect  on  trade. — Foreign 
countries  aflFected. — Effects  of  our  new  internal  economy — 
the  regulation  of  banking  and  "big  business" — on  pros- 
perity.— Effects  of  our  revised  attitude  toward  foreign 
markets,  including  our  merchant  marine. — Summary. 

Obviously,  fhi^  very  simple  outline  is  capable  of  con- 
siderable expansion  under  each  head  by  the  addition  of 
facts,  arguments,  inferences  anid  examples. 

Here  is  an  outline  arranged  with  more  regard  for 



I.  Fact  AS  Cause:  Many  immigrants  are  practically 
paupers.  (Proofs  involving  statistics  or  state- 
ments of  authorities.) 
n.  Fact  as  Effect:  They  sooner  or  later  fill  our 
alms-houses  and  become  public  charges.  (Proofs 
involving  statistics  or  statements  of  authorities.) 

'Adapted  from  Componiion-BMoriCt  Soott  and  Denny,  p.  241. 


in.    Fact  as  Cause:    Some  of  them  axe  criminals. 

(Examples  of  recent  cases.) 
IV.    Fact  as  Effect:    They  reinforce  the  criminal 

classes.    (Effects  on  our  dvic  life.) 
V.    Fact  as  Cause:  Many  of  them  know  nothing  of 

the  duties  of  free  citizenship.    (Examples.) 
VI.    Fact  as  Effect:    Such  immigrants  recruit  the 

worst  element  in  our  politics.    (Proofs.) 
A  more  highly  ordered  grouping  of  topics  and  sub- 
topics is  shown  in  the  following: 


I.    Introduction:  Why  the  subject  is  timely.    In- 
fluences operative  against  this  contention  today. 
II.    Christianity  Presided  Over  the  Early  His- 
tory OF  America. 

1.  First  practical  discovery  by  a  Christian  ex- 
plorer. Columbus  worshiped  God  on  the  new 

2.  The  Cavaliers. 

3.  The  French  Catholic  settlers. 

4.  The  Huguenots. 

5.  The  Puritans. 

in.    The  Birth  of  Our  Nation  was  Under  Chris- 
tian Auspices. 

1.  Christian  character  of  Washington. 

2.  Other  Christian  patriots. 

3.  The  Church  in  our  Revolutionary  struggle. 


IV.  Our  Later  History  has  only  Eicphasized  Our 
National  Attitude.  Examples  of  dealings 
with  foreign  nations  show  Christian  magna- 
nimity. Returning  the  Chinese  Indenmity; 
fostering  the  Red  Cross;  attitude  toward  Bdgimn. 
V.  Our  Governmental  Forms  and  Many  of  Our 
Laws  are  of  a  Christian  Temper. 

1.  The  use  of  the  Bible  in  public  ways^  oaths,  etc. 

2.  The  Bible  in  our  schools. 

3.  Christian    chaplains    minister    to    our    law- 
making bodies,  to  our  army,  and  to  our  navy. 

4.  The  Christian  Sabbath  is  officially  and  gen- 
erally recognized. 

5.  The  Christian  family  and  the  Christian  system 
of  morality  are  at  the  basis  of  our  laws. 

VI.    The  Life  of  the  People  Testifies  of  the 
Power  of  Christianity.    Charities,  education, 
etc.,  have  Christian  tone. 
Vn.    Other  Nations  Regard  us  as  a  Christian 

Vni.    Conclusion:  The  attitude  which  may  reasona- 
bly be  expected  of  all  good  citizens  toward  ques- 
tions touching  the  preservation  of  our  standing  as 
a  Christian  nation. 

Writing  and  Rmsion 

After  the  outline  has  been  perfected  comes  the  time  to 
write  the  speech,  if  write  it  you  must.  Then,  whatever  yoo 
do,  write  it  at  white  heat,  with  not  too  much  thought  of 
anything  but  the  strong,  appealing  expression  of  your  ideas. 


The  final  stage  is  the  paring  down,  the  re-vision — ^the 

seeing  again,  as  the  word  implies — when  all  the  parts  of 

the  speech  must  be  impartially  scrutinized  for  clearness, 

precision,    force,    effectiveness,    suitability,    proportion, 

logical  climax;  and  in  all  this  you  must  imagine  yourself  to 

be  before  your  audience,  for  a  speech  is  not  an  essay  and 

what  will  convince  and  arouse  in  the  one  will  not  prevail 

in  the  other. 


Often  last  of  all  will  come  that  which  in  a  sense  is  first 
of  all — the  title,  the  name  by  which  the  speech  is  known. 
Sometimes  it  will  be  the  simple  theme  of  the  address,  as 
"The  New  Americanism,"  by  Henry  Watterson;  or  it 
may  be  a  bit  of  s3anbolism  typifying  the  spirit  of  the 
address,  as  "Acres  of  Diamonds,"  by  Russell  H.  Conwell; 
or  it  may  be  a  fine  phrase  taken  from  the  body  of  the 
address,  as  "Pass  Prosperity  Around,"  by  Albert  J. 
Beveridge.  All  in  all,  from  whatever  motive  it  be  chosen, 
let  the  title  be  fresh,  short,  suited  to  the  subject,  and  likely 
to  exdte  interest. 


1.  Define  (a)  introduction;  ifl)  climax;  (c)  peroration. 

2.  If  a  thirty-minute  speech  would  require  three  hours 
for  specific  preparation,  wotild  you  expect  to  be  able  to 
do  equal  justice  to  a  speech  one-third  as  long  in  one-third 
the  time  for  preparation?    Give  reasons. 

3.  Relate  briefly  any  personal  experience  you  may 
have  had  in  conserving  time  for  reading  and  thought. 

4.  In  the  manner  of  a  reporter  or  investigator,  go  out 


and  get  first-hand  information  on  some  subject  of  interest 
to  the  public.  Arrange  the  results  of  your  research  in  the 
form  of  an  outline,  or  brief. 

5.  From  a  private  or  a  public  library  gather  enough 
authoritative  material  on  one  of  the  following  questions 
to  build  an  outline  for  a  twenty-minute  address.  Take 
one  definite  side  of  the  question,  (a)  ''The  Housing  of 
the  Poor;"  (6)  "The  Commission  Form  of  Government 
for  Cities  as  a  Remedy  for  Political  Graft;"  (c)  "The 
Test  of  Woman's  Suffrage  in  the  West;"  (rf)  "Present 
Trends  of  Public  Taste  in  Reading;"  (e)  "Municipal 
Art;"  (/)  "Is  the  Theatre  Becoming  more  Elevated  in 
Tone?"  (g)  "The  Effects  of  the  Magazine  on  Litera- 
ture;" (A)  "Does  Modern  Life  Destroy  Ideals?"  (i)  "Is 
Competition  'the  Life  of  Trade?'  "  (j)  "Baseball  is  too 
Absorbing  to  be  a  Wholesome  National  Game;"  (k) 
"Summer  Baseball  and  Amateur  Standing;"  (/)  "Does 
Collie  Training  Unfit  a  Woman  for  Domestic  Life?" 
(m)  "Does  Woman's  Competition  with  Man  in  Business 
Dull  the  Spirit  of  Chivaby? "  («)  "Are  Elective  Studies 
Suited  to  High  School  Courses?"  (o)  "Does  the  Modem 
College  Prepare  Men  for  Preeminent  Leadership?"  (p) 
"The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  in  Its  Relation  to  the  Labor  Problem;" 
iq)    "Public  Speaking  as  Training  in  Citizenship." 

6.  Construct  the  outline,  examining  it  carefully  for 
interest,  convincing  character,  proportion,  and  climax 
of  arrangement. 

Note: — ^This  exercise  should  be  repeated  until  the 
student  shows  facility  in  synthetic  arrangement. 

7.  Deliver  the  address,  if  possible  before  an  audience. 


8.  Make  a  three-hundred  word  report  on  the  restilts, 
as  best  you  are  able  to  estimate  them. 

9.  Tell  something  of  the  benefits  of  using  a  periodical 
(or  cumulative)  index. 

10.  Give  a  number  of  quotations,  suitable  for  a 
speaker's  use,  that  you  have  memorized  in  off  moments. 

11.  In  the  manner  of  the  outline  on  page  213,  analyze 
the  address  on  pages  78-79,  "The  History  of  Liberty." 

12.  Give  an  outline  analysb,  from  notes  or  memory,  of 
an  address  or  sermon  to  which  you  have  listened  for  this 

13.  Criticise  the  address  from  a  structural  point  of 

14.  Invent  titles  forjany  five  of  the  themes  in  Exer- 
cise 5. 

15.  Criticise  the  titles  of  any  five  chapters  of  this  book, 
suggesting  better  ones. 

16.  Criticise  the  title  of  any  lecture  or  address  of  which 
you  know. 



Speak  not  at  all,  in  any  wise,  till  you  have  somewhat  to  speak; 
care  not  for  the  reward  of  your  speaking,  but  simply  and  with 
undivided  mind  for  the  truth  of  your  speaking. 

— ^Thomas  Casltlb,  Essay  on  Biography. 

A  complete  discussion  of  the  rhetorical  structure  of 
public  speeches  requires  a  fuller  treatise  than  can  be  un- 
dertaken in  a  work  of  this  nature,  yet  in  this  chapter,  and 
in  the  succeeding  ones  on  "Description,"  "Narration," 
"Argument,"  and  "Pleading,"  the  underlying  principles 
are  given  and  explained  as  fully  as  need  be  for  a  working 
knowledge,  and  adequate  book  references  are  given  for 
those  who  wotild  perfect  themselves  in  rhetorical  art. 

The  Nature  of  ExposUion 

In  the  word  "expose" — to  lay  bare,  to  uncover,  to  show 
the  true  inwardness  of— we  see  the  foundation-idea  of 
"Exposition."  It  is  the  dear  and  precise  setting  forth  of 
what  the  subject  really  is — ^it  is  explanation. 

Exposition  does  not  draw  a  picture,  for  that  would  be 
description.  To  tell  in  exact  terms  what  the  automobile 
is,  to  name  its  characteristic  parts  and  explain  their 
workings,  would  be  exposition;  so  would  an  explanation 
of  the  nature  of  "fear."  But  to  create  a  mental  image  of 
a  particular  automobile,  with  its  glistening  body,  grace- 


fill  lines,  and  great  speed,  wotild  be  description;  and  so 
would  a  picturing  of  fear  acting  on  the  emotions  of  a  child 
at  night.  Exposition  and  description  often  intermingle 
and  overiap,  but  fundamentally  they  are  distinct.  Their 
differences  will  be  touched  upon  again  in  the  chapter  on 

Exposition  furthermore  does  not  include  an  account  of 
how  events  happened — that  is  narration.  When  Peary 
lectured  on  his  polar  discoveries  he  explained  the  instru- 
ments used  for  determining  latitude  and  longitude — ^that 
was  exposition.  In  picturing  his  equipment  he  used 
description.  In  telling  of  his  adventures  day  by  day  he 
employed  narration.  In  supporting  some  of  his  conten- 
tions he  used  argument.  Yet  he  mingled  all  these  forms 
throughout  the  lecture. 

Neither  does  exposition  deal  with  reasons  and  infer- 
ences— ^that  is  the  field  of  argument.  A  series  of  connected 
statements  intended  to  convince  a  prospective  buyer  that 
one  automobile  is  better  than  another,  or  proofs  that 
the  appeal  to  fear  is  a  wrong  method  of  discipline,  would 
not  be  exposition.  The  plain  facts  as  set  forth  in  exposi- 
tory speaking  or  writing  are  nearly  always  the  basis  of 
argument,  yet  the  processes  are  not  one.  True,  the  state- 
ment of  a  single  significant  fact  without  the  addition  of 
one  other  word  may  be  convincing,  but  a  moment's 
thought  will  show  that  the  inference,  which  completes  a 
chain  of  reasoning,  is  made  in  the  mind  of  the  hearer  and 
presupposes  other  facts  held  in  consideration.^ 

In  like  manner,  it  is  obvious  that  the  field  of  persuasion 

'Aigmnwrtfttion  will  bo  outliiMd  folly  in  m  subflequmt  ohapttr. 


is   not   open    to   exposition,  for  exposition   is   entirely 
an   intellectual    process,   with    no   emotional    element. 

The  Importance  of  Exposition 

The  importance  of  exposition  in  public  speech  is  pre- 
cisely the  importance  of  setting  forth  a  matter  so  plainly 
that  it  cannot  be  misimderstood. 

"To  master  the  process  of  exposition  is  to  become  a  dear 
thinker.  '  I  know,  when  you  do  not  ask  me*'^  replied  a  gentleman 
upon  being  requested  to  define  a  highly  complex  idea.  Now  some 
large  concepts  defy  explicit  definition;  but  no  mind  should  take 
refuge  behind  such  exceptions,  for  where  definition  fails,  other 
forms  succeed.  Sometimes  we  feel  confident  that  we  have  per- 
fect mastery  of  an  idea,  but  when  the  time  comes  to  express  it, 
the  clearness  becomes  a  haze.  Exposition,  then,  is  the  test  of 
dear  understanding.  To  speak  effectively  you  must  be  able  to 
see  your  subject  clearly  and  comprehensively,  and  to  make  your 
audience  see  it  as  you  do."* 

There  are  pitfalls  on  both  sides  of  this  path.  To  explain 
too  little  will  leave  your  audience  in  doubt  as  to  what  you 
mean.  It  is  useless  to  argue  a  question  if  it  is  not  per- 
fectly clear  just  what  is  meant  by  the  question.  Have 
you  never  come  to  a  blind  lane  in  conversation  by  find- 
ing that  you  were  talking  of  one  aspect  of  a  matter  while 
your  friend  was  thinking  of  another?  If  two  do  not  agree 
in  their  definitions  of  a  Musician,  it  is  useless  to  dispute 
over  a  certain  man's  right  to  claim  the  title. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  path  lies  the  abyss  of  tediously 
explaining  too  much.  That  offends  because  it  impresses 
the  hearers  that  you  either  do  not  respect  their  intelligence 

^Th€  Working  PrincijtaJU  of  Rhetoric,  J.  F.  Qenuns 
*Hoi0  to  Attract  and  HoU  an  Audienee,  J.  Bers  E^nwaiii. 


or  are  trying  to  blow  a  breeze  into  a  tornado.    Carefully 

estimate  the  probable  knowledge  of  your  audience,  both 

in  general  and  of  the  particular  point  you  are  explaining. 

In  trying  to  simplify,  it  is  fatal  to  "sillify."    To  explain 

more  than  is  needed  for  the  purposes  of  your  argument  or 

appeal  is  to  waste  energy  all  around.   In  your  efforts  to  be 

explicit  do  not  press  exposition  to  the  extent  of  dulness — 

the  confines  are  not  far  distant  and  you  may  arrive  before 

you  know  it. 

Some  Purposes  of  Exposition 

From  what  has  been  said  it  ought  to  be  clear  that, 
primarily,  exposition  weaves  a  cord  of  imderstanding  be- 
tween you  and  your  audience.  It  lays,  furthermore,  a 
foundation  of  fact  on  which  to  build  later  statements, 
argmnents,  and  appeals.  In  scientific  and  purely  "in- 
formation" speeches  exposition  may  exist  by  itself  and 
for  itself,  as  in  a  lecture  on  biology,  or  on  psychology; 
but  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  it  is  used  to  accompany 
and  prepare  the  way  for  the  other  forms  of  discourse. 

Clearness,  precision,  accuracy,  unity,  truth,  and  neces- 
sity— ^these  must  be  the  constant  standards  by  which  you 
test  the  efficiency  of  your  expositions,  and,  indeed,  that 
of  every  explanatory  statement.  This  dictum  should  be 
written  on  your  brain  in  letters  most  plain.  And  let  this 
apply  not  alone  to  the  purposes  of  exposition  but  in  equal 
measure  to  your  use  of  the 

Methods  of  Exposition 

The  various  ways  along  which  a  speaker  may  proceed 
in  exposition  are  likely  to  touch  each  other  now  and  then, 


and  even  when  they  do  not  meet  and  actually  overlap, 
they  run  so  nearly  parallel  that  the  roads  are  sometimes 
distinct  rather  in  theory  than  in  any  more  practical 

Definition^  the  primary  expository  method,  is  a  state- 
ment of  precise  limits.^  Obviously,  here  the  greatest  care 
must  be  exercised  that  the  terms  of  definition  should  not 
themselves  demand  too  much  definition;  that  the  lan- 
guage should  be  concise  and  dear;  and  that  the  definition 
should  neither  exclude  nor  include  too  much.  The  fol- 
lowing is  a  simple  example: 

To  expound  is  to  set  forth  the  nature,  the  significance,  the 
characteristics,  and  the  bearing  of  an  idea  or  a  group  of  ideas. 

— ^Arlo  Bates,  Talks  an  Writing  English. 

Contrast  and  Antithesis  are  often  used  effectively  to 
amplify  definition,  as  in  this  sentence,  which  inmiediatdy 
follows  the  above-dted  definition: 

Exposition  therefore  differs  from  Description  in  that  it  deals 
directly  with  the  meaning  or  intent  of  its  subject  instead  of  with 
its  appearance. 

This  antithesis  forms  an  expansion  of  the  definition, 
and  as  such  it  might  have  been  still  further  extended.  In 
fact,  this  is  a  frequent  practise  in  public  speech,  where  the 
minds  of  the  hearers  often  ask  for  rdteration  and  expanded 
statement  to  help  them  grasp  a  subject  in  its  several 
aspects.  This  is  the  very  heart  of  exposition — to  amplify 
and  clarify  all  the  terms  by  which  a  matter  is  defined. 

^On  the  varioua  types  of  definitioii  see  any  ooUace  m&niial  of 


Example  is  another  method  of  amplifying  a  definition 
or  of  expounding  an  idea  more  fully.  The  following  sen- 
tences inmiediately  succeed  Mr.  Bates's  definition  and 
contrast  just  quoted: 

A  good  deal  which  we  are  accustomed  inexactly  to  call  de- 
scription is  reaUy  exposition.  Suppose  that  your  small  boy 
wishes  to  know  how  an  engine  works,  and  should  say:  "Please 
describe  the  steam-engine  to  me."  If  you  insist  on  taking  his 
words  literally — and  are  willing  to  run  the  risk  of  his  indigna- 
tion at  being  wilfully  misunderstood — ^you  will  to  the  best  of 
your  ability  picture  to  him  this  familiarly  wonderful  machine. 
If  you  explain  it  to  him,  you  are  not  describing  but  expounding  it. 

The  chief  value  of  example  is  that  it  makes  clear  the 
unknown  by  referring  the  mind  to  the  known.  Readiness 
of  mind  to  make  illuminating,  apt  comparisons  for  the 
sake  of  clearness  is  one  of  the  speaker's  chief  resoiurces  on 
the  platform — ^it  is  the  greatest  of  all  teaching  gifts.  It 
is  a  gift,  moreover,  that  responds  to  cultivation.  Read 
the  three  extracts  from  Arlo  Bates  as  their  author  de- 
livered them,  as  one  passage,  and  see  how  they  melt  into 
one,  each  part  supplementing  the  other  most  helpfully. 

Analogyy  which  calls  attention  to  similar  relationships 
in  objects  not  otherwise  similar,  is  one  of  the  most  useful 
methods  of  exposition.  The  following  striking  specimen 
is  from  Beecher's  Liverpool  speech: 

A  savage  is  a  man  of  one  story,  and  that  one  story  a  cellar. 
When  a  man  begins  to  be  civilized  he  raises  another  story.  When 
you  christianize  and  civilize  the  man,  you  put  story  upon  story, 
for  you  develop  facility  after  faculty;  and  you  have  to  supply 
every  story  with  your  productions. 


Discarding  is  a  less  common  form  of  platform  explana- 
tion. It  consists  in  clearing  away  associated  ideas  so  that 
the  attention  may  be  centered  on  the  main  thought  to  be 
discussed.  Really,  it  is  a  n^ative  factor  in  exposition, 
though  a  most  important  one,  for  it  is  fundamental  to 
the  consideration  of  an  intricately  related  matter  that 
subordinate  and  side  questions  should  be  set  aside  in  order 
to  bring  out  the  main  issue.  Here  is  an  example  of  the 

I  cannot  allow  myself  to  be  led  aside  from  the  only  issue  before 
this  jury.  It  is  not  pertinent  to  consider  that  this  prisoner  is 
the  husband  of  a  heartbroken  woman  and  that  his  babes  will  go 
through  the  world  under  the  shadow  of  the  law's  extremest 
penalty  worked  upon  their  father.  We  must  forget  the  venerable 
father  and  the  mother  whom  Heaven  in  pity  took  before  she 
learned  of  her  son's  disgrace.  What  have  these  matters  of  heart, 
what  have  the  blenched  faces  of  his  friends,  what  have  the 
prisoner's  long  and  honorable  career  to  say  before  this  bar 
when  you  are  sworn  to  weigh  only  the  direct  evidence  before  you? 
The  one  and  only  question  for  you  to  decide  on  the  evidence  is 
whether  this  man  did  with  revengeful  intent  commit  the  murder 
that  every  impartial  witness  has  solemnly  laid  at  his  door. 

Classification  assigns  a  subject  to  its  class.  By  an 
allowable  extension  of  the  definition  it  may  be  said  to 
assign  it  also  to  its  order,  genus,  and  species.  Classifica- 
tion is  useful  in  public  speech  in  narrowing  the  issue  to  a 
desired  phase.  It  is  equally  valuable  for  showing  a  thing 
in  its  relation  to  other  things,  or  in  correlation.  Classifica- 
tion is  dosely  akin  to  Definition  and  Division. 

This  question  of  the  liquor  traffic,  sirs,  takes  its  place  beside 
the  grave  moral  issues  of  all  times.    Whatever  be  its  economic 


significance — and  who  is  there  to  question  it — ^whatever  vital 
bearing  it  has  upon  our  political  system — and  is  there  one  who 
will  deny  it? — ^the  question  of  the  licensed  saloon  must  quickly 
be  settled  as  the  world  in  its  advancement  has  settled  the  ques- 
tions of  constitutional  government  for  the  masses,  of  the  opium 
txaffic,  of  the  serf,  and  of  the  slave — not  as  matters  of  economic 
and  political  expediency  but  as  questions  of  right  and  wrong. 

Analysis  separates  a  subject  into  its  essential  parts. 
This  it  may  do  by  various  principles;  for  example, 
analysis  may  follow  the  order  of  time  (geologic  eras), 
order  of  place  (geographic  facts),  logical  order  (a  sermon 
outline),  order  of  increasing  interest,  or  procession  to 
a  climax  (a  lecture  on  20th  century  poets);  and  so  on. 
A  classic  example  of  analytical  exposition  is  the  following: 

In  philosophy  the  contemplations  of  man  do  either  penetrate 
unto  God,  or  are  circumferred  to  nature,  or  are  reflected  or 
reverted  upon  himself.  Out  of  which  several  inquiries  there  do 
arise  three  knowledges:  divine  philosophy,  natural  philosophy,  and 
human  philosophy  or  humanity.  For  all  things  are  marked  and 
stamped  with  this  triple  character,  of  the  power  of  God,  the 
difference  of  nature,  and  the  use  of  man. 

— Lord  Bacon,  The  Advancement  of  Learning.^ 

Division  differs  only  from  analysis  in  that  analysis  fol- 
lows the  inherent  divisions  of  a  subject,  as  illustrated  in 
the  foregoing  passage,  while  division  arbitrarily  separates 
the  subject  for  convenience  of  treatment,  as  in  the  follow- 
ing none-too-logical  example: 

For  civil  history,  it  is  of  three  kinds;  not  unfitly  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  three  kinds  of  pictures  or  images.  For  of  pictures 
or  images,  we  see  some  are  unfinished,  some  are  perfect,  and  some 
are  defaced.    So  of  histories  we  may  find  three  kinds,  memorials, 

iQuoted  in  Th^  Wcrking  PrineipUt  of  Rhtiorie,  J.  F.  Qenung. 


perfect  histories,  and  antiqtiities;  for  memorials  are  history  un- 
finished, Jor  the  first  or  rough  drafts  of  history;  and  antiquities 
axe  history  defaced,  or  some  remnants  of  history  which  have 
casually  escaped  the  shipwreck  of  time. 

— ^LoKD  Bacon,  The  Advancement  of  Learning,^ 

Generalization  states  a  broad  principle,  or  a  general 
truth,  derived  from  examination  of  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  individual  facts.  This  synthetic  exposition  is  not 
the  same  as  argumentative  generalization,  which  supports 
a  general  contention  by  dting  instances  in  proof. 
Observe  how  Holmes  begins  with  one  fact,  and  by  adding 
another  and  another  reaches  a  complete  whole.  This  is 
one  of  the  most  effective  devices  in  the  public  speaker's 

Take  a  hollow  cylinder,  the  bottom  closed  while  the  top  remains 
open,  and  pour  in  water  to  the  height  of  a  few  inches.  Next 
cover  the  water  with  a  flat  plate  or  piston,  which  fits  the  interior 
of  the  cylinder  perfectly;  then  apply  heat  to  the  water,  and  we 
shall  witness  the  following  phenomena.  After  the  lapse  of  some 
minutes  the  water  will  begin  to  boil,  and  the  steam  accumulating 
at  the  upper  surface  will  make  room  for  itself  by  raising  the  piston 
slightly.  As  the  boiling  continues,  more  and  more  steam  will  be 
formed,  and  raise  the  piston  higher  and  higher,  till  all  the  water 
is  boiled  away,  and  nothing  but  steam  is  left  in  the  cylinder. 
Now  this  machine,  consisting  of  cylinder,  piston,  water,  and  fire, 
is  the  steam-engine  in  its  most  elementary  form.  For  a  steam- 
engine  may  be  defined  as  an  apparatus  for  doing  work  by  means 
of  heat  applied  to  water;  and  since  raising  such  a  weight  as  the 
piston  is  a  form  of  doing  work,  this  apparatus,  clumsy  and  incon- 
venient though  it  may  be,  answers  the  definition  precisely.' 

Reference  to  Experience  is  one  of  the  most  vital  princi- 
ples in  exposition — as  in  every  other  form  of  discourse. 

iQuoted  in  The  WorkiJig  PrincipUt  of  Bkelorie,  J.  F.  Oenung . 
*Q.  C.  v.  Holmes,  quoted  in  Specim$n9  of  iffxpontion,  H.  Lamoni. 


^'Reference  to  experience,  as  here  used,  means  reference 
to  the  known.  The  known  is  that  which  the  listener  has 
seen,  heard,  read,  felt,  believed  or  done,  and  which  still 
exists  in  his  consciousness — ^his  stock  of  knowledge.  It 
embraces  all  those  thoughts,  feelings  and  happenings 
which  are  to  him  real.  Reference  to  Experience,  then, 
means  coming  into  ike  listener's  life.^ 

The  vast  results  obtained  by  science  are  won  by  no  mystical 
faculties,  by  no  mental  processes,  other  than  those  which  are 
practised  by  every  one  of  us  in  the  humblest  and  meanest  affairs 
of  life.  A  detective  policeman  discovers  a  burglar  from  the 
marks  made  by  his  shoe,  by  a  mental  process  identical  with  that 
by  which  Cuvier  restored  the  extinct  animals  of  Montmartre 
from  fragments  of  their  bones.  Nor  does  that  process  of  induc- 
tion and  deduction  by  which  a  lady,  finding  a  stain  of  a  particular 
kind  upon  her  dress,  concludes  that  somebody  has  upset  the  ink- 
stand thereon,  differ  in  any  way  from  that  by  which  Adams  and 
Leverrier  discovered  a  new  planet.  The  man  of  science,  ia  fact, 
simply  uses  with  scruptdous  exactness  the  methods  which  we  all 
habitually,  and  at  every  moment,  use  carelessly. 

— Thomas  Henry  Huxley,  lAiy  Sermons. 

Do  you  set  down  your  name  in  the  scroll  of  youth,  that  are 
written  down  old  with  all  the  characters  of  age?  Have  you  not 
a  moist  eye?  a  dry  hand?  a  yellow  cheek?  a  white  beard?  a  de- 
creasing leg?  an  increasing  belly?  is  not  your  voice  broken?  your 
wind  short?  your  chin  double?  your  wit  single?  and  every  part 
about  you  blasted  with  antiquity?  and  will  you  yet  call  yourself 
young?    Pie,  fie,  fie,  Sir  John! 

— Shakespbarb,  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Finally,  in  preparing  expository  material  ask  yourself 
these  questions  regarding  your  subject: 

^Effective  Sp^akinot  Arthur  Edward  Phillips.    This  woA  oovers  the  praiM- 
mtion  of  public  speaoh  in  a  vwy  helpful  way. 


What  is  it,  and  what  is  it  not? 
What  is  it  like,  and  unlike? 
What  are  its  causes,  and  effects? 
How  shall  it  be  divided? 
With  what  subjects  is  it  correlated? 
What  experiences  does  it  recall? 
What  examples  illustrate  it? 


1.  What  would  be  the  effect  of  adhering  to  any  one  of 
the  forms  of  discourse  in  a  public  address? 

2.  Have  you  ever  heard  such  an  address? 

3.  Invent  a  series  of  examples  illustrative  of  the  dis- 
tinctions made  on  pages  232  and  233. 

4.  Make  a  list  of  ten  subjects  that  might  be  treated 
largely,  if  not  entirely,  by  exposition. 

5.  Name  the  six  standards  by  which  expository 
writing  should  be  tried. 

6.  Define  any  one  of  the  following :  (a)  storage  battery; 
(6)  "a  free  hand;"  (c)  sail  boat;  (d)  "The  Big  Stick;" 
(e)  nonsense;  (J)  "a  good  sport;"  (g)  short-story;  (4) 
novel;  (i)  newspaper;  (j)  politician;  (k)  jealousy;  (I) 
truth;  (m)  mating  girl;  (n)  collie  honor  system; 
(0)  modish;   (j>)  slum;   (g)  settlement  work;   (r)  forensic 

7.  Amplify  the  definition  by  antithesis. 

8.  Invent  two  examples  to  illustrate  the  definition 
(question  6). 

9.  Invent  two  analogies  for  the  same  subject  (ques- 
tion 6). 


ID.  Make  a  short  speech  based  on  one  of  the  following: 
(a)  wages  and  salary;  (b)  master  and  man;  (c)  war  and 
p^ce;  (d)  home  and  the  boarding  house;  {e)  struggle 
and  victory;   (/)  ignorance  and  ambition. 

11.  Make  a  ten-minute  speech  on  any  of  the  topics 
named  in  question  6,  using  all  the  methods  of  exposition 
already  named. 

12.  Explain  what  is  meant  by  discarding  topics  col- 
lateral and  subordinate  to  a  subject. 

13.  Rewrite  the  jury-speech  on  page  224. 

14.  Define  correlation. 

15.  Write  an  example  of  "classification,"  on  any 
political,  social,  economic,  or  moral  issue  of  the  day. 

16.  Make  a  brief  analytical  statement  of  Henry  W. 
Grady^s  "The  Race  Problem,"  page  36. 

17.  By  what  analytical  principle  did  you  proceed? 
(See  page  225.) 

18.  Write  a  short,  carefully  generalized  speech  from 
a  large  amoimt  of  data  on  one  of  the  following  subjects: 
(a)  The  servant  girl  problem;  (b)  cats;  (c)  the  baseball 
craze;  (d)  reform  administrations;  (e)  sewing  societies; 
(/)  coeducation;    (g)  the  traveling  salesman. 

19.  Observe  this  passage  from  Newton's  "EflFective 

"That  man  is  a  cynic.  He  sees  goodness  nowhere.  He  sneers 
at  virtue,  sneers  at  love;  to  him  the  maiden  plighting  her  troth 
18  an  artful  schemer,  and  he  sees  even  in  the  mother's  kiss  nothing 
but  an  empty  conventionality." 

Write,  commit  and  deliver  two  similar  passages  based 
on  your  choice  from  this  list:   (a)  "the  ^otist;"   (6)  "the 


sensualist;"  (c)  "the  hypocrite;"  (<0  "the  timid  man;" 
(«)  "the  joker;"  (/)"the  ffirt;"  (g)  "the  ungrateful 
woman;"  (k)  "the  mournful  man."  In  both  cases  use 
the  principle  of  "Reference  to  Experience." 

20.  Write  a  passage  on  any  of  the  foregoing  characters 
in  imitation  of  the  style  of  Shakespeare's  characteriza- 
tion of  Sir  John  Falstaff,  page  227. 



The  groves  of  Eden  vanish'd  now  so  long, 
Live  in  description,  and  look  green  in  song. 

— ^Alexander  Pope,  Windsor  Forest. 

The  moment  our  discourse  rises  above  the  ground-line  of 
familiar  facts,  and  is  inflamed  with  passion  or  exalted  thought, 
it  clothes  itself  in  images.  A  man  conversing  in  earnest,  if  he 
watch  his  intellectual  processes,  will  find  that  always  a  material 
image,  more  or  less  luminous,  arises  in  his  mind,  contemporane^ 
ous  with  every  thought,  which  furnishes  the  vestment  of  the 
thought.  .  .  .  This  imagery  is  spontaneous.  It  is  the 
blending  of  experience  with  the  present  action  of  the  mind.  It 
is  proper  creation. — Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Nature, 

Like  other  valuable  resources  in  public  speaking,  de- 
scription loses  its  power  when  carried  to  an  extreme. 
Over-ornamentation  makes  the  subject  ridiculous.  A 
dust-cloth  is  a  very  useful  thing,  but  why  embroider  it? 
Whether  description  shall  be  restrained  within  its  proper 
and  important  limits,  or  be  encouraged  to  run  riot,  is  the 
personal  choice  that  comes  before  every  speaker,  for 
man's  earliest  literary  tendency  is  to  depict. 

Tke  Nature  of  Description 

To  describe  is  to  caU  up  a  picture  in  the  mind  of  the 
hearer.  "In  talking  of  description  we  naturally  speak  of 
portra3dng,  delineating,  coloring,  and  all  the  devices  of 
the  picture  painter.    To  describe  is  to  visualize,  hence  we 


must  look  at  description  as  a  pictorial  process,  whether 
the  writer  deab  with  material  or  with  spiritual  objects."* 

If  you  were  asked  to  describe  the  rapid-fire  gun  you 
might  go  about  it  in  either  of  two  ways:  give  a  cold  techni- 
cal account  of  its  mechanism,  in  whole  and  in  detail,  or 
else  describe  it  as  a  terrible  engine  of  slaughter,  dwelling 
upon  its  effects  rather  than  upon  its  structure. 

The  former  of  these  processes  is  exposition,  the  latter 
is  true  description.  Exposition  deals  more  with  the  gefp- 
eral,  while  description  must  deal  with  the  particular. 
Exposition  elucidates  ideas,  description  treats  of  things. 
Exposition  deals  with  the  abstract,  description  with  the 
concrete.  Exposition  is  concerned  with  the  internal,  de- 
scription with  the  external.  Exposition  is  enumerative, 
description  literary.  Exposition  is  intellectual,  description 
sensory.    Exposition  is  impersonal,  description  personal. 

If  description  is  a  visualizing  process  for  the  hearer,  it 
is  first  of  all  such  for  the  speaker — ^he  cannot  describe 
what  he  has  never  seen,  eitlier  physically  or  in  fancy.  It  is 
this  personal  quality — this  question  of  the  personal  eye 
which  sees  the  things  later  to  be  described — ^that  makes 
description  .so  interesting  in  public  speech.  Given  a 
speaker  of  personality,  and  we  are  interested  in  his  per- 
sonal view — his  view  adds  to  the  natural  interest  of  the 
scene,  and  may  even  be  the  sole  source  of  that  interest  to 
his  auditors. 

The  seeing  eye  has  been  praised  in  an  earlier  chapter 
(on  "Subject  and  Preparation")  and  the  imagination  will 
be  treated  in  a  subsequent  one  (on  "Riding  the  Winged 

^WriUno  the  ShortStonf,  J.  Beii  Etenwein. 



Horse  ")>  but  here  we  must  consider  the  fncturing  mind: 
the  mind  that  forms  the  double  habit  of  seeing  things 
dearly — ^for  we  see  more  with  the  mind  than  we  do  with 
the  physical  eye — ^and  then  of  re-imaging  these  things  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  them  before  the  minds'  eyes  of  the 
hearers.  No  habit  is  more  useful  than  that  of  visualizing 
clearly  the  object,  the  scene,  the  situation,  the  action,  the 
person,  about  to  be  described.  Unless  that  primary 
process  is  carried  out  dearly,  the  picture  will  be  bliured 
for  the  hearer-beholder. 

In  a  work  of  this  nature  we  are  concerned  with  the 
rhetorical  analysis  of  description,  and  with  its  methods, 
only  so  far  as  may  be  needed  for  the  practical  purposes  of 
the  speaker.^  The  following  grouping,  therefore,  will  not 
be  r^arded  as  complete,  nor  will  it  here  be  necessary  to 
add  more  than  a  word  of  explanation: 

for         J 







In  motion 
f  Induding  action 

{Preceding  change 
During  change 
After  change 

( Physical 



>For  fuller  tiefttmeDt  of  DMOiiption  tee  Qonunc'i  Working  PrineipUt  of 
ic,  Albright's  Dtaerivtiw  WriUng,  Batw'  Taiko  on  Writing  Sn^ith,  lirrt 
and  woond  sniM,  sad  may  advanood  liietorio. 


Some  of  the  f or^;oing  processes  will  overlap,  in  certain 
instances,  and  all  are  more  likely  to  be  found  in  combina- 
tion than  singly. 

When  description  is  intended  solely  to  give  accurate 
information — as  to  delineate  the  appearance,  not  the 
technical  construction,  of  the  latest  Zeppelin  airship — it 
is  caUed  '^scientific  description,"  and  is  akin  to  exposition. 
When  it  is  intended  to  present  a  free  picture  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  a  vivid  impression,  it  is  called  "artistic 
description."  With  both  of  these  the  public  speaker  has 
to  deal,  but  more  frequently  with  the  latter  form.  Rhetori- 
cians make  still  further  distinctions. 

Methods  of  Description 

In  public  speaking,  description  should  be  mainly  by 
suggestiony  not  only  because  suggestive  description  is  so 
much  more  compact  and  time-saving  but  because  it  is  so 
vivid.  Suggestive  expressions  connote  more  than  they 
literally  say — ^they  suggest  ideas  and  pictures  to  the  mind 
of  the  hearer  which  supplement  the  direct  words  of  the 
speaker.  When  Dickens,  in  his  "Christmas  Carol,"  says: 
"In  came  Mrs.  Fezziwig,  one  vast  substantial  smile," 
our  minds  complete  the  picture  so  deftly  begun — a  much 
more  effective  process  than  that  of  a  minutely  detailed 
description  because  it  leaves  a  unified,  vivid  impression, 
and  that  is  what  we  need.  Here  is  a  present-day  bit  of 
suggestion:  "General  Trinkle  was  a  gnarly  oak  of  a  man 
— rough,  solid,  and  safe;  you  always  knew  where  to  find 
him."  Dickens  presents  Miss  Peecher  as:  "A  little  pin- 
cushion, a  little  housewife,  a  little  book,  a  little  work-box, 


a  little  set  of  tables  and  weights  and  measures,  and  a  little 
woman  all  in  one."  In  his  '^Ejiickerbocker's"  "History 
of  New  York,"  Irving  portrays  Wouter  van  Twiller  as 
^'a  robustious  beer-barrel,  standing  on  skids." 

Whatever  forms  of  description  you  n^lect,  be  sure  to 
master  the  art  of  suggestion. 

Description  may  be  by  simple  hint,  Lowell  notes  a  happy 
instance  of  this  sort  of  picturing  by  intimation  when  he 
says  of  Chaucer:  "Sometimes  he  describes  amply  by  the 
merest  hint,  as  where  the  Friar,  before  setting  himself 
down,  drives  away  the  cat.  We  know  without  need  of 
more  words  that  he  has  chosen  the  snuggest  comer." 

Description  may  depict  a  thing  by  its  effects,  "When  the 
spectator's  eye  is  dazzled,  and  he  shades  it,"  says  Mozley 
in  his  "Essays,"  "we  form  the  idea  of  a  splendid  object; 
when  his  face  turns  pale,  of  a  horrible  one;  from  his  quick 
wonder  and  admiration  we  form  the  idea  of  great  beauty; 
from  his  silent  awe,  of  great  majesty." 

Brief  description  may  be  by  epithet,  "Blue-eyed," 
"white-armed,"  "laughter-loving,"  are  now  conventional 
compoimds,  but  they  were  fresh  enough  when  Homer  first 
conjoined  them.  The  centuries  have  not  yet  improved 
upon  "Wheels  roimd,  brazen,  eight-spoked,"  or  "Shields 
smooth,  beautiful,  brazen,  well-hammered."  Observe 
the  effective  use  of  epithet  in  Will  Levington  Comfort's 
"The  Fighting  Death,"  when  he  speaks  of  soldiers 
in  a  Philippine  skirmish  as  being  "leeched  against  a 

Description  uses  figures  of  speech.  Any  advanced 
rhetoric  will  discuss  their  forms  and  give  examples  for 


guidance.^  This  matter  is  most  important,  be  assured. 
A  brilliant  yet  carefully  restrained  figurative  style,  a 
style  marked  by  brief,  pimgent,  witty,  and  humorous 
comparisons  and  characterizations,  is  a  wonderful  re- 
source for  all  kinds  of  platform  work. 

Description  may  be  direct.  This  statement  is  plain 
enough  without  exposition.  Use  your  own  judgment  as 
to  whether  in  pictiuing  you  had  better  proceed  from  a 
general  view  to  the  details,  or  first  give  the  details  and 
thus  build  up  the  general  picture,  but  by  all  means  be 


Note  the  vivid  compactness  of  these  delineations  from 
Washington  Irving's  "Knickerbocker:" 

He  was  a  short,  square,  brawny  old  gentleman,  with  a  double 
chin,  a  mastiff  mouth,  and  a  broad  copper  nose,  which  was  sup- 
posed in  those  days  to  have  acquired  its  fiery  hue  from  the  con- 
stant neighborhood  of  his  tobacco  pipe. 

He  was  exactly  five  feet  six  inches  in  height,  and  six  feet  five 
inches  in  circumference.  His  head  was  a  perfect  sphere,  and  of 
such  stupendous  dimensions,  that  Dame  Nature,  with  all  her 
sex's  ingenuity,  would  have  been  puzzled  to  construct  a  neck 
capable  of  supporting  it;  wherefore  she  wisely  declined  the  at- 
tempt, and  settled  it  firmly  on  the  top  of  his  backbone,  just 
between  the.'shotdders.  His  body  was  of  an  oblong  form,  par- 
ticularly capacious  at  bottom;  which  was  wisely  ordered  by 
Providence,  seeing  that  he  was  a  man  of  sedentary  habits,  and 
very  averse  to  the  idle  labor  of  walking. 

The  forgoing  is  too  long  for  the  platform,  but  it  is  so 
good-humored,  so  full  of  delightful  exaggeration,  that  it 

>86e  also  Ths  AH  of  F«rn^Me»o»,  J.  Beii  EMnwwn  aad  Mary  Etoaaor 
Roberta,  pp.  2&4U(;  and  IfrOina  <A«  ShorirSUny,  J.  Beii  Esenwein,  pp.  153- 
182;  231-340. 


may  well  serve  as  a  model  of  humorous  character  picturing^ 
for  here  one  inevitably  sees  the  inner  man  in  the  outer. 

Direct  description  for  platform  use  may  be  made  vivid 
by  the  sparing  use  of  the  "historical  present."  The  fol- 
lowing dramatic  passage,  accompanied  by  the  most  lively 
action,  has  lingered  in  the  mind  for  thirty  years  after 
hearing  Dr.  T.  De  Witt  Talmage  lecture  on  "Big 
Blunders."   The  crack  of  the  bat  sounds  clear  even  today: 

Get  ready  the  bats  and  take  your  positions.  Now,  give  us 
the  ball.  Too  low.  Don't  strike.  Too  high.  Don't  strike. 
There  it  comes  like  lightning.  Strike!  Away  it  soars!  Higher! 
Higher!  Run!  Another  base!  Faster!  Faster!  Good!  All 
around  at  one  stroke! 

Observe  the  remarkable  way  in  which  the  lecturer 
fused  speaker,  audience,  spectators,  and  players  into  one 
excited,  ecstatic  whole — ^just  as  you  have  found  yourself 
starting  forward  in  your  seat  at  the  delivery  of  the  ball  with 
"three  on  and  two  down"  in  the  ninth  inning.  Notice, 
too,  how — ^perhaps  unconsciously — ^Talmage  painted  the 
scene  in  Homer's  characteristic  style:  not  as  having 
already  happened,  but  as  happening  before  your  eyes. 

If  you  have  attended  many  travel  talks  you  must  have 
been  impressed  by  the  painful  extremes  to  which  the 
lecturers  go — ^with  a  few  notable  exceptions,  their  lan- 
guage is  either  over-ornate  or  crude.  If  you  would  learn 
the  power  of  words  to  make  scenery,  yes,  even  houses, 
palpitate  with  poetry  and  human  appeal,  read  Lafcadio 
Heam,  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  Pierre  Loti,  and  Edmondo 
De  Amicis. 


Blue-distant,  a  mountain  of  carven  stone  appeared  befote 
them, — ^the  Temple,  lifting  to  heaven  its  wilderness  of  chiseled 
pinnacles,  flinging  to  the  sky  the  golden  spray  of  its  decoration. 

— Lafcadio  Hbarn,  Chinese  Ghosts. 

The  stars  were  clear,  colored,  and  jewel-like,  but  not  frosty. 
A  faint  silvery  vapour  stood  for  the  Milky  Way.  All  around  me 
the  black  fir-points  stood  upright  and  stock-still.  By  the  white- 
ness of  the  pack-saddle  I  could  see  Modestine  walking  round  and 
round  at  the  length  of  her  tether;  I  could  hear  her  steadily 
munching  at  the  sward;  but  there  was  not  another  sound  save 
the  indescribable  quiet  talk  of  the  runnel  over  the  stones. 

— Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  Travels  with  a  Donkey. 

It  was  full  autumn  now,  late  autumn — with  the  nightfalls 
gloomy,  and  all  things  growing  dark  early  in  the  old  cottage,  and 
all  the  Breton  land  looking  sombre,  too.  The  very  days  seemed 
but  twilight;  immeasurable  clouds,  slowly  passing,  would  sud- 
denly bring  darkness  at  broad  noon.  The  wind  moaned  con- 
stantly— ^it  was  like  the  sound  of  a  great  cathedral  organ  at  a 
distance,  but  playing  profane  airs,  or  despairing  dirges;  at  other 
times  it  would  come  close  to  the  door,  and  lift  up  a  howl  like 
wild  beasts. — Pierre  Loti,  An  Iceland  Fisherman. 

I  see  the  great  refectory,*  where  a  battalion  might  have  drilled; 
I  see  the  long  tables,  the  five  himdred  heads  bent  above  the 
plates,  the  rapid  motion  of  five  hundred  forks,  of  a  thousand 
hands,  and  sixteen  thousand  teeth;  the  swarm  of  servants 
running  here  and  there,  called  to,  scolded,  hurried,  on  every  side 
at  once;  I  hear  the  clatter  of  dishes,  the  deafening  noise,  the 
voices  choked  with  food  crying  out:  "Bread — ^bread!"  and  I 
feel  once  more  the  formidable  appetite,  the  herculean  strength 
of  jaw,  the  exuberant  life  and  spirits  of  those  far-off  days.* 

— Edmondo  De  Amicis,  College  Friends. 

Suggestions  for  the  Use  of  Description 

Decide,  on  beginning  a  description,  what  point  of  view 
you  wish  your  hearers  to  take.    One  cannot  see  either  a 

an  tho  MiliUry  College  of  Modena. 

iThis  figure  of  speech  is  known  as  "Virion.** 


mountain  or  a  man  on  all  sides  at  once.  Establish  a 
view-point,  and  do  not  shift  without  giving  notice. 

Choose  an  attitude  toward  your  subject — shall  it  be 
idealized?  caricatured?  ridiculed?  exs^erated?  defended? 
or  described  impartially? 

Be  sure  of  your  mood,  too,  for  it  will  color  the  subject 
to  be  described.  Melancholy  will  make  a  rose-garden 
look  gray. 

Adopt  an  order  in  which  you  will  proceed — do  not  shift 
backward  and  forward  from  near  to  far,  remote  to  close 
in  time,  general  to  particular,  large  to  small,  important  to 
unimportant,  concrete  to  abstract,  physical  to  mental; 
but  follow  your  chosen  order.  Scattered  and  shifting 
observations  produce  hazy  impressions  just  as  a  moving 
camera  spoils  the  time-exposure. 

Do  not  go  into  needless  minutis.  Some  details  identify 
a  thing  with  its  class,  while  other  details  differentiate  it 
from  its  class.  Choose  only  the  significant,  suggestive 
characteristics  and  bring  those  out  with  terse  vividness. 
Learn  a  lesson  from  the  few  strokes  used  by  the  poster 

In  determining  what  to  describe  and  what  merely  to 
name,  seek  to  read  the  knowledge  of  your  audience.  The 
difference  to  them  between  the  unknown  and  the  known 
is  a  vital  one  also  to  you. 

Relentlessly  cut  out  all  ideas  and  words  not  necessary 
to  produce  the  effect  you  desire.  Each  element  in  a  mental 
picture  either  helps  or  hinders.  Be  sure  they  do  not 
hinder,  for  they  cannot  be  passively  present  in  any 


Interruptions  of  the  description  to  make  side-remarks 
are  as  powerful  to  destroy  unity  as  are  scattered  descrip- 
tive phrases.  The  only  visual  impression  that  can  be 
effective  is  one  that  is  unified. 

In  describing,  try  to  call  up  the  emotions  you  felt  when 
first  you  saw  the  scene,  and  then  try  to  reproduce  those 
emotions  in  your  hearers.  Description  is  primarily 
emotional  in  its  appeal;  nothing  can  be  more  deadly  dull 
than  a  cold,  unemotional  outline,  while  nothing  leaves  a 
warmer  impression  than  a  glowing,  spirited  description. 

Give  a  swift  and  vivid  general  view  at  the  dose  of  the 
portrayal.  First  and  final  impressions  remain  the  longest. 
The  mind  may  be  trained  to  take  in  the  characteristic 
points  of  a  subject,  so  as  to  view  in  a  single  scene,  action, 
experience,  or  character,  a  unified  impression  of  the  whole. 
To  describe  a  thing  as  a  whole  you  must  first  see  it  as  a 
whole.  Master  that  art  and  you  have  mastered  descrip- 
tion to  the  last  degree. 



I  went  to  Washington  the  other  day,  and  I  stood  on  the 
Capitol  HiU;  my  heart  beat  quick  as  I  looked  at  the  towering 
marble  of  my  cotmtry's  Capitol  and  the  mist  gathered  in  my 
eyes  as  I  thought  of  its  tremendous  significance,  and  the  armies 
and  the  treasury,  and  the  judges  and  the  President,  and  the 
Congress  and  the  courts,  and  all  that  was  gathered  there.  And 
I  felt  that  the  sun  in  all  its  course  could  not  look  down  on  a  better 
sight  than  that  majestic  home  of  a  republic  that  had  taught  the 
world  its  best  lessons  of  liberty.  And  I  felt  that  if  honor  and 
wisdom  and  justice  abided  therein,  the  world  would  at  last  owe 
to  that  great  house  in  which  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  my  country 
is  lodged,  its  final  uplifting  and  its  regeneration. 


Two  days  afterward,  I  went  to  visit  a  friend  in  the  country, 
a  modest  man,  with  a  quiet  cotmtry  home.  It  was  just  a  simple, 
unpretentious  house,  set  about  with  big  trees,  encircled  in  meadow 
and  field  rich  with  the  promise  of  harvest.  The  fragrance  of  the 
pink  and  hollyhock  in  the  front  yard  was  mingled  with  the  aroma 
of  the  orchard  and  of  the  gardens,  and  resonant  with  the  cluck 
of  poultry  and  the  hum  of  bees. 

Inside  was  quiet,  cleanliness,  thrift,  and  comfort.  There  was 
the  old  clock  that  had  welcomed,  in  steady  measure,  every  new- 
comer to  the  family,  that  had  ticked  the  solemn  requiem  of  the 
dead,  and  had  kept  company  with  the  watcher  at  the  bedside. 
There  were  the  big,  restful  beds  and  the  old,  open  fireplace,  and 
tlie  old  family  Bible,  thumbed  with  the  fingers  of  hands  long 
since  still,  and  wet  with  the  tears  of  eyes  long  since  closed,  hold- 
ing the  simple  annals  of  the  family  and  the  heart  and  the  con- 
science of  the  home. 

Outside,  there  stood  my  friend,  the  master,  a  simple,  upright 
man,  with  no  mortgage  on  his  roof,  no  lien  on  his  growing  crops, 
master  of  his  land  and  master  of  himself.  There  was  his  old 
father,  an  aged,  trembling  man,  but  happy  in  the  heart  and  home 
of  his  son.  And  as  they  started  to  their  home,  the  hands  of  the 
old  man  went  down  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  laying  there 
the  unspeakable  blessing  of  the  honored  and  grateful  father  and 
ennobling  it  with  the  knighthood  of  the  fifth  commandment. 

And  as  they  reached  the  door  the  old  mother  came  with  the 
sunset  falling  fair  on  her  face,  and  lighting  up  her  deep,  patient 
eyes,  while  her  lips,  trembling  with  the  rich  music  of  her  heart, 
bade  her  husband  and  son  welcome  to  their  home.  Beyond  was 
the  housewife,  busy  with  her  household  cares,  clean  of  heart  and 
conscience,  the  buckler  and  helpmeet  of  her  husband.  Down  the 
lane  came  the  children,  trooping  home  after  the  cows,  seeking 
as  truant  birds  do  the  quiet  of  their  home  nest. 

And  I  saw  the  night  come  down  on  that  house,  falling  gently 
as  the  wings  of  the  unseen  dove.  And  the  old  man — while  a 
startled  bird  called  from  the  forest,  and  the  trees  were  shrill 
with  the  cricket's  cry,  and  the  stars  were  swarming  in  the  sky — 
got  the  family  around  him,  and,  taking  the  old  Bible  from  the 
table,  called  them  to  their  knees,  the  little  baby  hiding  in  the 
folds  of  its  mother's  dress,  while  he  closed  the  record  of  that 


simple  day  by  calling  down  God's  benediction  on  that  family 
and  that  home.  And  while  I  gazed,  the  vision  of  that  marble 
Capitol  faded.  Forgotten  were  its  treasures  and  its  majesty, 
and  I  said,  "  Oh,  surely  here  in  the  homes  of  the  people  are  lodged 
at  last  the  strength  and  the  responsibility  of  this  government, 
the  hope  and  the  promise  of  this  republic." — Hbnry  W.  Gradt. 


One  thing  in  life  calls  for  another;   there  is  a  fitness  in  events 
and  places.    The  sight  of  a  pleasant  arbor  puts  it  in  our  mind  to 
sit  there.     One  place  suggests  work,  another  idleness,  a  third 
early  rising  and  long  rEunbles  in  the  dew.    The  effect  of  night, 
of  any  flowing  water,  of  lighted  cities,  of  the  peep  of  day,  of 
ships,  of  the  open  ocean,  calls  up  in  the  mind  an  army  of  anony- 
mous desires  and  pleasures.    Something,  we  feel,  should  happen; 
we  know  not  what,  yet  we  proceed  in  quest  of  it.    And  many  of 
the  happiest  hours  in  life  fleet  by  us  in  this  vain  attendance  on 
the  genius  of  the  place  and  moment.    It  is  thus  that  tracts  of 
young  fir,  and  low  rocks  that  reach  into  deep  soundings,  particu- 
larly delight  and  torture  me.    Something  must  have  happened 
in  such  places,  and  perhaps  ages  back,  to  members  of  my  race; 
and  when  I  was  a  child  I  tried  to  invent  appropriate  games  for 
them,  as  I  still  try,  just  as  vainly,  to  fit  them  with  the  proper 
story.     Some  places  speak  distinctly.     Certain  dank  gardens 
cry  aloud  for  a  murder;  certain  old  houses  demand  to  be  haimted ; 
certain  coasts  are  set  aside  for  shipwreck.     Other  spots  again 
seem  to  abide  their  destiny,  suggestive  and  impenetrable,  "mich- 
ing  maUecho."    The  inn  at  Burford  Bridge,  with  its  arbours  and 
green  garden  and  silent,  eddying  river — though  it  is  known 
already  as  the  place  where  Keats  wrote  some  of  his  Endymion 
and  Nelson  parted  from  his  Emma — still  seems  to  wait  the  com- 
ing of  the  appropriate  legend.    Within  these  ivied  walls,  behind 
these  old  green  shutters,  some  further  business  smoulders,  waiting 
for  its  hour.    The  old  Hawes  Inn  at  the  Queen's  ferry  makes  a 
similar  call  upon  my  fancy.     There  it  stands,  apart  from  the 
town,  beside  the  pier,  in  a  climate  of  its  own,  half  inland,  half 
marine — in  front,  the  ferry  bubbling  with  the  tide  and  the  guard- 
ship  swinging  to  her  anchor;    behind,  the  old  garden  with  the 


trees.  Americans  seek  it  already  for  the  sake  of  Lovel  and  Old- 
buck,  who  dined  there  at  the  beginning  of  the  Antiquary.  But 
you  need  not  tell  me — ^that  is  not  all;  there  is  some  story,  tm- 
recorded  or  not  yet  complete,  which  must  express  the  meaning 
of  that  inn  more  fully.  ...  I  have  lived  both  at  the  Hawes 
and  Burford  in  a  perpetual  flutter,  on  the  heel,  as  it  seemed,  of 
some  adventure  that  should  justify  the  place;  but  though  the 
feeling  had  me  to  bed  at  night  and  called  me  again  at  morning 
in  one  unbroken  rotmd  of  pleasure  and  suspense,  nothing  befell 
me  in  either  worth  remark.  The  man  or  the  hour  had  not  yet 
come;  but  some  day,  I  think,  a  boat  shall  put  off  from  the 
Queen's  ferry,  fraught  with  a  dear  cargo,  and  some  frosty  night 
a  horseman,  on  a  tragic  errand,  rattle  with  his  whip  upon  the 
green  shutters  at  the  inn  at  Burford. 

— ^R.  L.  Stbvbnson,  a  Gossip  on  Romance. 


Clang!  Clang!  Clang!  the  fire-bells!  Bing!  Bing!  Bing!  the 
alarm!  In  an  instant  quiet  ttmis  to  uproar — an  outburst  of 
noise,  excitement,  clamor — ^bedlam  broke  loose;  Bing!  Bing! 
Bing!  Rattle,  dash  and  clatter.  Open  fly  the  doors;  brave 
men  mount  their  boxes.  Bing!  Bing!  Bing!  They're  off!  The 
horses  tear  down  the  street  like  mad.  Bing!  Bing!  Bing!  goes 
the  gong! 

"Get  out  of  the  track!  The  engines  are  coming!  For  God's 
sake,  snatch  that  child  from  the  road!" 

On,  on,  wildly,  resolutely,  madly  fly  the  steeds.  Bing!  Bing! 
the  gong.  Away  dash  the  horses  on  the  wings  of  fevered  fury. 
On  whirls  the  machine,  down  streets,  around  comers,  up  this 
avenue  and  across  that  one,  out  into  the  very  bowels  of  dark- 
ness, whiffing,  wheezing,  shooting  a  million  sparks  from  the 
stack,  paving  the  path  of  startled  night  with  a  galaxy  of  stars. 
Over  the  house-tops  to  the  north,  a  volcanic  burst  of  flame 
shoots  out,  belching  with  blinding  effect.  The  sky  is  ablaze. 
A  tenement  house  is  burning.  Five  htmdred  souls  are  in  peril. 
Merciful  Heaven!  Spare  the  victims!  Are  the  engines  coming? 
Yes,  here  they  are,  dashing  down  the  street.  Look!  the  horses 
ride  upon  the  wind;  eyes  bulging  like  balls  of  fire;  nostrils  wide 


open.  A  palpitating  billow  of  fire,  rolling,  plunging,  bounding, 
rising,  falling,  swelling,  heaving,  and  with  mad  passion  bursting 
its  red-hot  sides  asunder,  reaching  out  its  arms,  encircling, 
squeezing,  grabbing  up,  swallowing  everything  before  it  with 
the  hot,  greedy  mouth  of  an  appalling  monster. 

How  the  horses  dash  around  the  comer!  Animal  instinct, 
say  you?    Aye,  more.    Brute  reason. 

"Up  the  ladders,  men!" 

The  towering  building  is  buried  in  bloated  banks  of  savage, 
biting  elements.  Forked  tongues  dart  out  and  in,  dodge  here 
and  there,  up  and  down,  and  wind  their  cutting  edges  around 
every  object.  A  crash,  a  dull,  explosive  sound,  and  a  puff  of 
smoke  leaps  out.  At  the  highest  point  upon  the  roof  stands  a 
dark  figure  in  a  desperate  strait,  the  hands  making  frantic 
gestures,  the  arms  swinging  wildly — and  then  the  body  shoots 
off  into  frightful  space,  plunging  upon  the  pavement  with  a 
revolting  thud.  The  man's  arm  strikes  a  bystander  as  he  darts 
down.  The  crowd  shudders,  sways,  and  utters  a  low  murmur 
of  pity  and  horror.  The  faint-hearted  lookers-on  hide  their 
faces.    One  woman  swoons  away. 

"Poor  fellow!  Dead!"  exclaims  a  laborer,  as  he  looks  upon 
the  man's  body. 

"Aye,  Joe,  and  I  knew  him  well,  too!  He  lived  next  door  to 
me,  five  flights  back.  He  leaves  a  widowed  mother  and  two  wee 
bits  of  orphans.  I  helped  him  bury  his  wife  a  fortnight  ago. 
Ah,  Joe!  but  it's  hard  lines  for  the  orphans." 

A  ghastly  hour  moves  on,  dragging  its  regiment  of  panic  in  its 
trail  and  leaving  crimson  blotches  of  cruelty  along  the  path  of 

"Are  they  all  out,  firemen?" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

"No,  they're  not!  There's  a  woman  in  the  top  window  hold- 
ing a  child  in  her  arms — over  yonder  in  the  right-hand  comer! 
The  ladders,  there!  A  hundred  pounds  to  the  man  who  makes 
the  rescue!" 

A  dozen  start.  One  man  more  supple  than  the  others,  and 
reckless  in  his  bravery,  clambers  to  the  top  rung  of  the  ladder. 

" Too  short! "  he  cries.    " Hoist  another! " 

Up  it  goes.    He  mounts  to  the  window,  fastens  the  rope,  lashes 


mother  and  babe,  swings  them  off  into  ugly  emptiness,  and  lets 
them  down  to  be  rescued  by  his  comrades. 

"Bravo,  fireman!"  shouts  the  crowd. 

A  crash  breaks  through  the  uproar  of  crackling  timbers. 

"Look  alive,  up  there!    Great  God!    The  roof  has  fallen!" 

The  walls  sway,  rock,  and  tumble  in  with  a  deafening  roar. 
The  spectators  cease  to  breathe.  The  cold  truth  reveals  itself. 
The  fireman  has  been  carried  into  the  seething  furnace.  An  old 
woman,  bent  with  the  weight  of  age,  rushes  through  the  fire  line, 
shrieking,  raving,  and  wringing  her  hands  and  opening  her  heart 
of  grief. 

"Poor  John!  He  was  all  I  had!  And  a  brave  lad  he  was,  too! 
But  he*s  gone  now.  He  lost  his  own  life  in  savin'  two  more,  and 
now— now  he's  there,  away  in  there!"  she  repeats,  pointing  to 
the  cruel  oven. 

The  engines  do  their  work.  The  flames  die  out.  An  eerie 
gloom  hangs  over  the  ruins  like  a  formidable,  blackened  pall. 

And  the  noon  of  night  is  passed. — ^Ardennes  Jones-Foster. 


1.  Write  two  paragraphs  on  one  of  these:  the  race 
horse,  the  motor  boat,  golfing,  tennis;  let  the  first  be 
pure  exposition  and  the  second  pure  description. 

2.  Select  your  own  theme  and  do  the  same  in  two 
short  extemporaneous  speeches. 

3.  Deliver  a  short  original  address  in  the  over-orna- 
mented style. 

4.  (a)  Point  out  its  defects;  (b)  recast  it  in  a  more 
effective  style;  (c)  show  how  the  one  surpasses  the  other. 

5.  Make  a  list  of  ten  subjects  which  lend  themselves 
to  description  in  the  style  you  prefer. 

6.  Deliver  a  two-minute  speech  on  any  one  of  them, 
using  chiefly,  but  not  solely,  description. 

7.  For  one  minute,  look  at  any  object,  scene,  action, 


picture,  or  person  you  choose,  take  two  minutes  to  arrange 
your  thoughts,  and  then  deliver  a  short  description — all 
without  making  written  notes. 

8.  In  what  sense  is  description  more  personal  than 

9.  Explain  the  difference  between  a  scientific  and  an 
artistic  description. 

10.  In  the  style  of  Dickens  and  Irving  (pages  234, 235), 
write  five  separate  sentences  describing  five  characters  by 
means  of  suggestion — one  sentence  to  each. 

11.  Describe  a  character  by  means  of  a  hint,  after  the 
manner  of  Chaucer  (p.  235). 

12.  Read  aloud  the  following  with  special  attention 
to  gesture: 

His  very  throat  was  moraL  You  saw  a  good  deal  of  it.  You 
looked  over  a  very  low  fence  of  white  cravat  (whereof  no  man 
had  ever  beheld  the  tie,  for  he  fastened  it  behind),  and  there  it 
lay,  a  valley  between  two  jutting  heights  of  collar,  serene  and 
whiskerless  before  you.  It  seemed  to  say,  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  "There  is  no  deception,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  aU  is 
peace,  a  holy  calm  pervades  me."  So  did  his  hair,  just  gnzzled 
with  an  iron  gray,  which  was  all  brushed  off  his  forehead,  and 
stood  bolt  upright,  or  slightly  drooped  in  kindred  action  with 
bis  heavy  eyelids.  So  did  his  person,  which  was  sleek  though 
free  from  corpulency.  So  did  his  manner,  which  was  soft  and 
oily.  In  a  word,  even  his  plain  black  suit,  and  state  of  widower, 
and  dangling  double  eye-glass,  all  tended  to  the  same  purpose,  and 
cried  aloud,  "Behold  the  moral  Pecksniff!" 

— Charles  Dickbns,  MarHn  Ckuwdewii, 

13.  Which  of  the  following  do  you  prefer,  and  why? 

She  was  a  blooming  lass  of  fresh  eighteen,  plump  as  a  par- 
tridge, ripe  and  melting  and  rosy-cheeked  as  one  of  her  father's 
peaches. — Irving. 


She  was  a  splendidly  femmine  girl,  as  wholesome  as  a  Novem- 
ber pippin,  and  no  more  mysterious  than  a  window-pane. 

I  Hbnry. 

Small,  shining,  neat,  methodical,  and  buxom  was  Miss  Peecher; 
cherry-cheeked  and  ttmeful  of  voice. — Dickens. 

14.  Invent  five  epithets,  and  apply  them  as  you  choose 

(p.  23s).   . 

15.  (a)  Make  a  list  of  five  figures  of  speech;  (b)  de- 
fine them;  (c)  give  an  example — ^preferably  original — 
under  each. 

16.  Pick  out  the  figures  of  speech  in  the  address  by 
Grady,  on  page  240. 

17.  Invent  an  original  figure  to  take  the  place  of  any 
one  in  Grady's  speech. 

18.  What  sort  of  figures  do  you  find  in  the  selection 
from  Stevenson,  on  page  242? 

19.  What  methods  of  description  does  he  seem  to 

20.  Write  and  deliver,  without  notes  and  with  de- 
scriptive gestures,  a  description  in  imitation  of  any  of  the 
authors  quoted  in  this  chapter. 

21.  Re&uunine  one  of  your  past  speeches  and  improve 
the  descriptive  work.  Report  on  what  faults  you  found 
to  exist. 

22.  Deliver  an  extemporaneous  speech  describing  any 
dramatic  scene  in  the  style  of  "Midnight  in  London." 

23.  Describe  an  event  in  your  favorite  sport  in  the 
style  of  Dr.  Talmage.  Be  careful  to  make  the  delivery 


24.  Criticise^  favorably  or  unfavorably,  the  descriptions 
of  any  travel  talk  you  may  have  heard  recentiy. 

25.  Deliver  a  brief  original  travel  talk,  as  though  you 
were  showing  pictures. 

26.  Recast  the  talk  and  deliver  it  "without  pictures." 



The  art  of  narration  is  the  art  of  writing  in  hooks  and  eyes. 
The  principle  consists  in  making  the  appropriate  thought  follow 
the  appropriate  thought,  the  proper  fact  the  proper  fact;  in 
first  preparing  the  mind  for  what  is  to  come,  and  then  letting  it 
come. — Walter  Bagehot,  Literary  Studies. 

Our  very  speech  is  curiously  historical.  Most  men,  you  may 
observe,  speak  only  to  narrate;  not  in  imparting  what  they  have 
thought,  which  indeed  were  often  a  very  small  matter,  but  in 
exhibiting  what  they  have  undergone  or  seen,  which  is  a  quite 
unlimited  one,  do  talkers  dilate.  Cut  us  off  from  Narrative,  how 
would  the  stream  of  conversation,  even  among  the  wisest,  lan- 
guish into  detached  handftds,  and  among  the  foolish  utterly 
evaporate!  Thus,  as  we  do  nothing  but  enact  History,  we  say 
little  but  recite  it. — ^Thomas  Caklyle,  On  History. 

Only  a  small  s^;ment  of  the  great  field  of  narration 
offers  its  resources  to  the  public  speaker,  and  that  includes 
the  anecdote,  biographical  facts,  and  the  narration  of 
events  in  general. 

Narration — more  easily  defined  than  mastered — ^is  the 
recital  of  an  incident,  or  a  group  of  facts  and  occurrences, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  produce  a  desired  effect. 

The  laws  of  narration  are  few,  but  its  successful  practise 
involves  more  of  art  than  would  at  first  appear — so  much, 
indeed,  that  we  cannot  even  touch  upon  its  technique 
here,  but  must  content  ourselves  with  an  examination  of 
a  few  examples  of  narration  as  used  in  public  speech. 


In  a  preliminary  way,  notice  how  radically  the  public 
speaker's  use  of  narrative  differs  from  that  of  the  story- 
writer  in  the  more  limited  scope,  absence  of  extended 
dialogue  and  character  drawing,  and  freedom  from  elabora- 
tion of  detail,  which  characterize  platform  narrative.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  are  several  similarities  of  method: 
the  frequent  combination  of  narration  with  exposition, 
description,  argumentation,  and  pleading;  the  care 
exercised  in  the  arrangement  of  material  so  as  to  produce 
a  strong  effect  at  the  close  (climax);  the  very  general 
practise  of  concealing  the  "point"  (denouement)  of  a  story 
until  the  effective  moment;  and  the  careful  suppression 
of  needless,  and  therefore  hurtful,  details. 

So  we  see  that,  whether  for  magazine  or  platform,  the 
art  of  narration  involves  far  more  than  the  recital  of 
annals;  the  succession  of  events  recorded  requires  a  plan 
in  order  to  bring  them  out  with  real  effect. 

It  will  be  noticed,  too,  that  the  literary  style  in  plat- 
form narration  is  likely  to  be  either  less  polished  and  more 
vigorously  dramatic  than  in  that  intended  for  publication, 
or  else  more  fervid  and  elevated  in  tone.  In  this  latter 
respect,  however,  the  best  platform  speaking  of  today 
differs  from  the  models  of  the  preceding  generation, 
wherein  a  highly  dignified,  and  sometimes  pompous,  style 
was  thought  the  only  fitting  dress  for  a  public  deliverance. 
Great,  noble  and  stirring  as  these  older  masters  were  in 
their  lofty  and  impassioned  eloquence,  we  are  sometimes 
oppressed  when  we  read  their  sounding  periods  for  any 
great  length  of  time — even  allowing  for  all  that  we  lose 
by  missing  the  speaker's  presence,  voice,  and  fire.    So  let 


US  model  our  platform  narration,  as  our  other  forms  of 
speech,  upon  the  effective  addresses  of  the  modems,  with- 
out lessening  our  admiration  for  the  older  school. 


An  anecdote  is  a  short  narrative  of  a  single  event,  told 
as  being  striking  enough  to  bring  out  a  point.  The  keener 
the  point,  the  more  condensed  the  form,  and  the  more 
suddenly  the  application  strikes  the  hearer,  the  better  the 

To  r^ard  an  anecdote  as  an  illustration — an  inter- 
pretive picture — ^will  help  to  hold  us  to  its  true  purpose, 
for  a  purposeless  story  is  of  all  offenses  on  the  platform 
the  most  asinine.  A  perfectly  capital  joke  will  fall  fiat 
when  it  is  dragged  in  by  the  nape  without  evident  bearing 
on  the  subject  under  discussion.  On  the  other  hand,  an 
apposite  anecdote  has  saved  many  a  speech  from  failure. 

"There  is  no  finer  opportimity  for  the  display  of  tact 
than  in  the  introduction  of  witty  or  humorous  stories  into 
a  discourse.  Wit  b  keen  and  like  a  rapier,  piercing 
deeply,  sometimes  even  to  the  heart.  Htunor  is  good- 
natured,  and  does  not  wound.  Wit  is  founded  upon  the 
sudden  discovery  of  an  unsuspected  relation  existing 
between  two  ideas.  Humor  deals  with  things  out  of  rela- 
tion— ^with  the  incongruous.  It  was  wit  in  Douglass 
Jerrold  to  retort  upon  the  scowl  of  a  stranger  whose 
ahoidder  he  had  familiarly  slapped,  mistaking  him  for 
a  friend:  'I  b%  your  pardon,  I  thought  I  knew  you — 
but  I'm  glad  I  don't'  It  was  humor  in  the  Southern 
orator,  John  Wise,  to  liken  the  pleasure  of  spending  an 


evening  with  a  Puritan  girl  to  that  of  sitting  on  a  block  of 
ice  in  winter,  cracking  hailstones  between  his  teeth.  "^ 

The  forgoing  quotation  has  been  introduced  chiefly 
to  illustrate  the  first  and  simplest  form  of  anecdote — the 
single  sentence  embodying  a  pungent  saying. 

Another  simple  form  is  that  which  conveys  its  meaning 
without  need  of  ''application/'  as  the  old  preachers  used 
to  say.  George  Ade  has  quoted  this  one  as  the  best  joke 
he  ever  heard: 

Two  solemn-looking  gentlemen  were  riding  together  in  a 
railway  carriage.  One  gentleman  said  to  the  other:  "Is  your 
wife  entertaining  this  summer?"  Whereupon  the  other  gentle- 
man replied:    "Not  very." 

Other  anecdotes  need  harnessing  to  the  particular  truth 
the  speaker  wishes  to  carry  along  in  his  talk.  Sometimes 
the  application  is  made  before  the  story  b  told  and  the 
audience  is  prepared  to  make  the  comparison,  point  by 
point,  as  the  illustration  is  told.  Henry  W.  Grady  used 
this  method  in  one  of  the  anecdotes  he  told  while  delivering 
his  great  extemporaneous  address,  "The  New  South." 

Age  does  not  endow  all  things  with  strength  and  virtue,  nor 
are  all  new  things  to  be  despised.  The  shoemaker  who  put  over 
his  door,  "John  Smith's  shop,  founded  1760,"  was  more  than 
matched  by  his  young  rival  across  the  street  who  hung  out  this 
sign:  "Bill  Jones.  Established  1886.  No  old  stock  kept  in  this 

In  two  anecdotes,  told  also  in  "The  New  South,"  Mr. 
Grady  illustrated  another  way  of  enforcing  the  applica- 

^How  to  AUraei  and  Hold  an  Audience,  J.  Berc  Eoenwwn 


tion:  in  both  instances  he  split  the  idea  he  wished  to 
drive  home,  bringing  in  part  before  and  part  after  the 
recital  of  the  story.  The  fact  that  the  speaker  misquoted 
the  words  of  Genesis  in  which  the  Ark  is  described  did  not 
seem  to  detract  from  the  burlesque  humor  of  the  story. 

I  bespeak  the  utmost  stretch  of  your  courtesy  tonight.  I  am 
not  troubled  about  those  from  whom  I  come.  You  remember  the 
man  whose  wife  sent  him  to  a  neighbor  with  a  pitcher  of  milk, 
who,  tripping  on  the  top  step,  fell,  with  such  casual  interruptions 
as  the  landings  afforded,  into  the  basement,  and,  while  picking 
himself  up,  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  his  wife  call  out: 

"John,  did  you  break  the  pitcher? 

"No,  I  didn't,"  said  John,  "but  I  be  dinged  if  I  don't." 

So,  while  those  who  call  to  me  from  behind  may  inspire  me 
with  energy,  if  not  with  courage,  I  ask  an  indulgent  hearing  from 
you.  I  beg  that  you  will  bring  your  full  faith  in  American  fair- 
ness and  frankness  to  judgment  upon  what  I  shall  say.  There 
was  an  old  preacher  once  who  told  some  boys  of  the  Bible  lesson 
he  was  going  to  read  in  the  morning.  The  boys,  finding  the  place, 
glued  together  the  connecting  pages.  The  next  morning  he  read 
on  the  bottom  of  one  page:  "When  Noah  was  one  hundred  and 
twenty  years  old  he  took  unto  himself  a  wife,  who  was" — then 
turning  the  page — "one  hundred  and  forty  cubits  long,  forty 
cubits  wide,  built  of  gopher  wood,  and  covered  with  pitch  inside 
and  out."  He  was  naturally  puzzled  at  this.  He  read  it  again, 
verified  it,  and  then  said,  "  My  friends,  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever 
met  this  in  the  Bible,  but  I  accept  it  as  an  evidence  of  the  asser- 
tion that  we  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made."  If  I  could  get 
3rou  to  hold  such  faith  to-night,  I  could  proceed  cheerfully  to  the 
task  I  otherwise  approach  with  a  sense  of  consecration. 

Now  and  then  a  speaker  will  plunge  without  introduc- 
tion into  an  anecdote,  leaving  the  application  to  follow. 
The  following  illustrates  this  method: 

A  large,  slew-footed  darky  was  leaning  against  the  comer  of 
the  railroad  station  in  a  Texas  town  when  the  noon  whistle  in  the 


canning  factory  blew  and  the  hands  hurried  out,  bearing  their 
grub  buckets.  The  darky  listened,  with  his  head  on  one  sidei 
until  the  rocketing  echo  had  quite  died  away.  Then  he  heaved 
a  deep  sigh  and  remarked  to  himself: 

"  Dar  she  go.  Dinner  time  for  some  folks — ^but  jes'  12  o'clock 
fur  me!" 

That  is  the  situation  in  thousands  of  American  factories,  large 
and  small,  today.    And  why?  etc.,  etc. 

Doubtless  the  most  frequent  platform  use  of  the  anec- 
dote is  in  the  pulpit.  The  sermon  ''illustration,"  however, 
is  not  always  strictly  narrative  in  form,  but  tends  to 
extended  comparison,  as  the  following  from  Dr.  Alexander 

Men  will  stand  as  Indian  fakirs  do,  with  their  arms  above  their 
heads  until  they  stiffen  there.  They  will  perch  themselves  upon 
pillars  like  Simeon  Stylites,  for  years,  till  the  birds  build  their 
nests  in  their  hair.  They  will  measure  all  the  distance  from  Cape 
Comorin  to  Juggernaut's  temple  with  their  bodies  along  the  dusty 
road.  They  will  wear  hair  shirts  and  scourge  themselves.  They 
will  fast  and  deny  themselves.  They  will  build  cathedrals  and 
endow  churches.  They  will  do  as  many  of  you  do,  labor  by  fits 
and  starts  all  thru  your  lives  at  the  endless  task  of  making  your- 
selves ready  for  heaven,  and  winning  it  by  obedience  and  by 
righteousness.  They  will  do  all  these  things  and  do  them  gladly^ 
rather  than  listen  to  the  humbling  message  that  says,  "You  do 
not  need  to  do  anything — ^wash."  Is  it  your  washing,  or  the 
water,  that  will  clean  you?  Wash  and  be  clean!  Naaman's 
cleaning  was  only  a  test  of  his  obedience,  and  a  token  that  it  was 
God  who  cleansed  him.  There  was  no  power  in  Jordan's  waters 
to  takeaway  the  taint  of  leprosy.  Our  cleansing  is  in  that  blood 
of  Jesus  Christ  that  has  the  power  to  take  away  all  sin,  and  to 
make  the  foulest  amongst  us  pure  and  dean. 

One  final  word  must  be  said  about  the  introduction  to 
the  anecdote.    A  clumsy,  inappropriate  introduction  is 


fatal,  whereas  a  single  apt  or  witty  sentence  will  kindle 
interest  and  prepare  a  favorable  hearing.  The  following 
extreme  illustration,  by  the  English  humorist.  Captain 
Harry  Graham,  well  satirizes  the  stumbling  manner: 

The  best  story  that  I  ever  heard  was  one  that  I  was  told  once 
in  the  fall  of  1905  (or  it  may  have  been  1906),  when  I  was  visiting 
Boston — at  least,  I  think  it  was  Boston;  it  may  have  been 
Washington  (my  memory  is  so  bad). 

I  happened  to  run  across  a  most  amusing  man  whose  name  I 
forget — ^Williams  or  Wilson  or  Wilkins;  some  name  like  that — 
and  he  told  me  this  story  while  we  were  waiting  for  a  trolley  car. 

I  can  still  remember  how  heartily  I  laughed  at  the  time;  and 
again,  that  evening,  after  I  had  gone  to  bed,  how  I  laughed  myself 
to  sleep  recalling  the  humor  of  this  incredibly  humorous  story. 
It  was  really  quite  extraordinarily  fimny.  In  fact,  I  can  truth- 
fully affirm  that  it  is  quite  the  most  amusing  story  I  have  ever 
had  the  privilege  of  hearing.    Unfortunately,  I've  forgotten  it. 

Biographical  Facts 

Public  speaking  has  much  to  do  with  personalities; 
naturally,  therefore,  the  narration  of  a  series  of  biographi- 
cal details,  including  anecdotes  among  the  recital  of  in- 
teresting facts,  plays  a  large  part  in  the  eulogy,  the  memo- 
rial address,  the  political  speech,  the  sermon,  the  lecture, 
and  other  platform  deliverances.  Whole  addresses  may 
be  made  up  of  such  biographical  details,  such  as  a  sermon 
on  "Moses,"  or  a  lecture  on  "Lee." 

The  following  example  is  in  itself  an  expanded  anecdote, 
forming  a  link  in  a  chain: 


The  peculiar  sublimity  of  the  Roman  mind  does  not  express 
itself,  nor  is  it  at  all  to  be  sought,  in  their  poetry.   Poetry,  accord- 


ing  to  the  Roman  ideal  of  it,  was  not  an  adequate  organ  for  the 
grander  movements  of  the  national  mind.  Roman  sublimity 
must  be  looked  for  in  Roman  acts,  and  in  Roman  sayings. 
Where,  again,  ^Till  you  find  a  more  adequate  expression  of  the 
Roman  majesty,  than  in  the  saying  of  Trajan — Imperatorem 
oporUre  statUem  mori — ^that  Ccesar  ought  to  die  standing;  a 
speech  of  imperatorial  grandeur!  Implying  that  he,  who  was 
"the  foremost  man  of  all  this  world," — and,  in  regard  to  all 
other  nations,  the  representative  of  his  own, — should  express  its 
characteristic  virtue  in  his  farewell  act — should  die  in  procindu — 
and  should  meet  the  last  enemy  as  the  first,  with  a  Roman 
countenance  and  in  a  soldier's  attitude.  If  this  had  an  impera- 
torial— what  follows  had  a  consular  majesty,  and  is  almost  the 
grandest  story  upon  record. 

Marius,  the  man  who  rose  to  be  seven  times  consul,  was  in  a 
dungeon,  and  a  slave  was  sent  in  with  commission  to  put  him 
to  death.  These  were  the  persons, — ^the  two  extremities  of 
exalted  and  forlorn  humanity,  its  vanward  and  its  rearward 
man,  a  Roman  consul  and  an  abject  slave.  But  their  natural 
relations  to  each  other  were,  by  the  caprice  of  fortune,  mon- 
strously inverted:  the  consul  was  in  chains;  the  slave  was  for  a 
moment  the  arbiter  of  his  fate.  By  what  spells,  what  magic, 
did  Marius  reinstate  himself  in  his  natural  prerogatives?  By 
what  marvels  drawn  from  heaven  or  from  earth,  did  he,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  again  invest  himself  with  the  purple,  and 
place  between  himself  and  his  assassin  a  host  of  shadowy  lictors? 
By  the  mere  blank  supremacy  of  great  minds  over  weak  ones. 
He  fascinated  the  slave,  as  a  rattlesnake  does  a  bird.  Standing 
**like  Teneriffe,"  he  smote  him  with  his  eye,  and  said,  "Tune, 
homo,  audes  occidere  C.  Marium?** — "Dost  thou,  fellow,  prestune 
to  kill  Caius  Marius?"  Whereat,  the  reptile,  quaking  under  the 
voice,  nor  daring  to  affront  the  consular  eye,  sank  gently  to  the 
groimd — turned  round  upon  his  hands  and  feet — ^and,  crawling 
out  of  the  prison  like  any  other  vermin,  left  Marius  standing  in 
solitude  as  steadfast  and  immovable  as  the  capitol. 

— Thomas  De  Quincy. 

Here  is  a  similar  example,  prefaced  by  a  general  his- 


torical  statement  and  concluding  with  autobiographical 


One  raw  moming  in  spring — ^it  will  be  eighty  years  the  19th 
day  of  this  month — Hancock  and  Adams,  the  Moses  and  Aaron 
of  that  Great  Deliverance,  were  both  at  Lexington;  they  also 
had  "obstructed  an  officer"  with  brave  words.  British  soldiers, 
a  thousand  strong,  came  to  seize  them  and  carry  them  over  sea 
for  trial,  and  so  nip  the  bud  of  Freedom  auspiciously  opening  in 
that  early  spring.  The  town  militia  came  together  before  day- 
light, "for  training."  A  great,  tall  man,  with  a  large  head  and  a 
high,  wide  brow,  their  captain, — one  who  had  "seen  service," — 
marshalled  them  into  line,  numbering  but  seventy,  and  bade 
"  every  man  load  his  piece  with  powder  and  ball.  I  will  order  the 
first  man  shot  that  runs  away,"  said  he,  when  some  faltered. 
"Don't  fire  unless  fired  upon,  but  if  they  want  to  have  a  war, 
let  it  begin  here." 

Gentlemen,  you  know  what  followed;  those  farmers  and 
mechanics  "fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world."  A  little 
monument  covers  the  bones  of  such  as  before  had  pledged  their 
fortune  and  their  sacred  honor  to  the  Freedom  of  America,  and 
that  day  gave  it  also  their  lives.  I  was  bom  in  that  little  town, 
and  bred  up  amid  the  memories  of  that  day.  When  a  boy,  my 
mother  lifted  me  up,  one  Sunday,  in  her  religious,  patriotic  arms, 
and  held  me  while  I  read  the  first  monumental  line  I  ever  saw — 
"Sacred  to  Liberty  and  the  Rights  of  Mankind." 

Since  then  I  have  studied  the  memorial  marbles  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  in  many  an  ancient  town;  nay,  on  Egyptian  obelisks 
have  read  what  was  written  before  the  Eternal  raised  up  Moses 
to  lead  Israel  out  of  Egypt;  but  no  chiseled  stone  has  ever  stirred 
me  to  such  emotion  as  these  rustic  names  of  men  who  fell  "In 
the  Sacred  Cause  of  God  and  their  Country." 

Gentlemen,  the  Spirit  of  Liberty,  the  Love  of  Justice,  were  early 
fanned  into  a  flame  in  my  boyish  heart.  That  monument  covers 
the  bones  of  my  own  kinsfolk;  it  was  their  blood  which  reddened 
the  long,  green  grass  at  Lexington.  It  was  my  own  name  which 
stands  chiseled  on  that  stone;   the. tall  captain  who  marshalled 


his  fellow  fanners  and  mechanics  into  stem  array,  and  spoke 
such  brave  and  dangerous  words  as  opened  the  war  of  American 
Independence, — the  last  to  leave  the  field, — ^was  my  father's 
father.  I  learned  to  read  out  of  his  Bible,  and  with  a  musket  he 
that  day  captured  from  the  foe,  I  learned  another  religious 
lesson,  that  "Rebellion  to  Tyrants  is  Obedience  to  God."  I 
keep  them  both  "  Sacred  to  Liberty  and  the  Rights  of  Mankind,'* 
to  use  them  both  "In  the  Sacred  Cause  of  God  and  my 
Country." — ^Theodorb  Parker. 

Narration  of  EoetUs  in  General 

In  this  wider,  emancipated  narration  we  find  much 
mingling  of  other  forms  of  discourse,  greatly  to  the  advan- 
tage of  the  speech,  for  this  truth  cannot  be  too  strongly 
emphasized:  The  efficient  speaker  cuts  loose  from  form 
for  the  sake  of  a  big,  free  effect.  The  present  analyses  are 
for  no  other  purpose  than  to  acquaint  you  with  form — do 
not  allow  any  such  models  to  hang  as  a  weight  about  your 

The  following  pure  narration  of  events,  from  Greorge 
William  Curtis's  "Paul  Revere's  Ride,"  varies  the  bio- 
graphical redtal  in  other  parts  of  his  famous  oration: 

That  evening,  at  ten  o'clock,  eight  hundred  British  troops, 
under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Smith,  took  boat  at  the  foot  of  the 
Common  and  crossed  to  the  Cambridge  shore.  Gage  thought  his 
secret  had  been  kept,  but  Lord  Percy,  who  had  heard  the  people 
say  on  the  Common  that  the  troops  would  miss  their  aim,  un- 
deceived him.  Gage  instantly  ordered  that  no  one  should  leave 
the  town.  But  as  the  troops  crossed  the  river,  Ebenezer  Dorr, 
with  a  message  to  Hancock  and  Adams,  was  riding  over  the  Neck 
to  Roxbury,  and  Paul  Revere  was  rowing  over  the  river  to 
Charlestown,  having  agreed  with  his  friend,  Robert  Newman, 
to  show  lanterns  from  the  belfry  of  the  Old  North  Church — "  One 
if  by  land,  and  two  if  by  sea" — as  a  signal  of  the  march  of  the 


The  following,  from  the  same  oration,  beautifully 
mingles  description  with  narration: 

It  was  a  brilliant  night.  The  winter  had  been  unusually  mild, 
and  the  spring  very  forward.  The  hills  were  already  green.  The 
early  grain  waved  in  the  fields,  and  the  air  was  sweet  with  the 
blossoming  orchards.  Already  the  robins  whistled,  the  blue- 
birds sang,  and  the  benediction  of  peace  rested  upon  the  land- 
scape. Under  the  cloudless  moon  the  soldiers  silently  marched, 
and  Paul  Revere  swiftly  rode,  galloping  through  Medford  and 
West  Cambridge,  rousing  every  house  as  he  went  spurring  for 
Lexington  and  Hancock  and  Adams,  and  evading  the^  British 
patrols  who  had  been  sent  out  to  stop  the  news. 

In  the  succeeding  extract  from  another  of  Mr.  Curtis's 
addresses,  we  have  a  free  use  of  all^ory  as  illustration: 


There  is  a  modem  English  picture  which  the  genius  of  Haw- 
thorne might  have  inspired.  The  painter  calls  it,  "  How  they  met 
themselves."  A  man  and  a  woman,  haggard  and  weary,  wander- 
ing lost  in  a  somber  wood,  suddenly  meet  the  shadowy  figures  of 
a  youth  and  a  maid.  Some  mysterious  fascination  fixes  the  gaze 
and  stills  the  hearts  of  the  wanderers,  and  their  amazement 
deepens  into  awe  as  they  gradually  recognize  themselves  as  once 
they  were;  the  soft  bloom  of  youth  upon  their  rounded  cheeks, 
the  dewy  light  of  hope  in  their  trusting  eyes,  exulting  confidence 
in  their  springing  step,  themselves  blithe  and  radiant  with  the 
glory  of  the  dawn.  Today,  and  here,  we  meet  ourselves.  Not 
to  these  familiar  scenes  alone — ^yonder  college-green  with  its 
reverend  traditions;  the  halcyon  cove  of  the  Seekonk,  upon  which 
the  memory  of  Roger  Williams  broods  like  a  bird  of  calm;  the 
historic  bay,  beating  forever  with  the  muffled  oars  of  Barton  and 
of  Abraham  Whipple;  here,  the  humming  city  of  the  living; 
there,  the  peaceful  city  of  the  dead; — not  to  these  only  or  chiefly 
do  we  return,  but  to  ourselves  as  we  once  were.  It  is  not  the 
smiling  freshmen  of  the  year,  it  is  your  own  beardless  and  un- 
wrinkled  faces,  that  are  looking  from  the  windows  of  University 


Hall  and  of  Hope  Coll^^e.  Under  the  trees  upon  the  hill  it  is 
yourselves  whom  you  see  walking,  full  of  hopes  and  dreams, 
glowing  with  conscious  power,  and  "nourishing  a  youth  sublime; " 
and  in  this  familiar  temple,  which  surely  has  never  echoed  with 
eloquence  so  fervid  and  inspiring  as  that  of  your  commencement 
orations,  it  is  not  yonder  youths  in  the  galleries  who,  as  they 
fondly  believe,  are  whispering  to  yonder  maids;  it  is  your 
yotmger  selves  who,  in  the  days  that  are  no  more,  are  murmuring 
to  the  fairest  mothers  and  grandmothers  of  those  maids. 

Happy  the  worn  and  weary  man  and  woman  in  the  picture 
could  they  have  felt  their  older  eyes  stiU  glistening  with  that 
earlier  light,  and  their  hearts  yet  beating  with  imdiminished 
sympathy  and  aspiration.  Happy  we,  brethren,  whatever  may 
have  been  achieved,  whatever  left  undone,  if,  returning  to  the 
home  of  our  earlier  years,  we  bring  with  us  the  illimitable  hope, 
the  unchilled  resolution,  the  inextinguishable  faith  of  youth. 

— George  William  Curtis. 


1.  Clip  from  any  source  ten  anecdotes  and  state  what 
truths  they  may  be  used  to  illustrate. 

2.  Deliver  five  of  these  in  your  own  language,  without 
making  any  application. 

3.  From  the  ten,  deliver  one  so  as  to  make  the  implica- 
tion before  telling  the  anecdote. 

4.  Deliver  another  so  as  to  split  the  application. 

5.  Deliver  another  so  as  to  make  the  application  after 
the  narration. 

6.  Deliver  another  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  a  specific 
application  needless. 

7.  Give  three  ways  of  introducing  an  anecdote,  by 
saying  where  you  heard  it,  etc. 

8.  Deliver  an  illustration  that  is  not  strictly  an  anec- 
dote, in  the  style  of  Curtis's  speech  on  page  359. 


9.  Deliver  an  address  on  any  public  character,  using 
the  forms  illustrated  in  this  chapter. 

ID.  Deliver  an  address  on  some  historical  event  in  the 
same  manner. 

11.  Explain  how  the  sympathies  and  viewpoint  of  the 
speaker  will  color  an  anecdote,  a  biography,  or  a  historical 

12.  Illustrate  how  the  same  anecdote,  or  a  section  of 
a  historical  address,  may  be  given  two  different  effects  by 
personal  prejudice. 

13.  What  would  be  the  effect  of  shifting  the  viewpoint 
in  the  midst  of  a  narration? 

14.  What  is  the  danger  of  using  too  much  humor  in 
an  address?   Too  much  pathos? 



Sometimes  the  feeling  that  a  given  way  of  looking  at  things  is 
undoubtedly  correct  prevents  the  mind  from  thinking  at  all. 
.  .  .  .  In  view  of  the  hindrances  which  certain  kinds  or 
degrees  of  feeling  throw  into  the  way  of  thinking,  it  might  be 
inferred  that  the  thinker  must  suppress  the  element  of  feeling 
in  the  inner  life.  No  greater  mistake  could  be  made.  If  the 
Creator  endowed  man  with  the  power  to  think,  to  feel,  and  to 
will,  these  several  activities  of  the  mind  are  not  designed  to  be  in 
conflict,  and  so  long  as  any  one  of  them  is  not  perverted  or  allowed 
to  run  to  excess,  it  necessarily  aids  and  strengthens  the  others 
in  their  normal  functions. 

— Nathan  C.  Schaeffer,  Thinking  and  Learning  toJlUnk, 

When  we  weigh,  compare,  and  decide  upon  the  value 
of  any  given  ideas,  we  reason;  when  an  idea  produces  in 
us  an  opinion  or  an  action,  without  first  being  subjected 
to  deliberation,  we  are  moved  by  suggestion. 

Man  was  formerly  thought  to  be  a  reasoning  animal, 
basing  his  actions  on  the  conclusions  of  natural  logic.  It 
was  supposed  that  before  forming  an  opinion  or  deciding 
on  a  course  of  conduct  he  weighed  at  least  some  of  the 
reasons  for  and  against  the  matter,  and  performed  a  more 
or  less  simple  process  of  reasoning.  But  modem  research 
has  shown  that  quite  the  opposite  is  true.  Most  of  our 
opinions  and  actions  are  not  based  upon  conscious  reason- 
ing, but  are  the  result  of  suggestion.  In  fact,  some 
authorities  declare  that  an  act  of  pure  reasoning  is  very 
rare  in  the  average  mind.   Momentous  decisions  are  made, 


far-readuDg  actions  are  determined  upon,  primarily  by 
the  force  of  suggestion. 

Notice  that  word  ''primarily/'  for  simple  thought,  and 
even  mature  reasoning,  often  follows  a  suggestion  accepted 
in  the  mind,  and  the  thinker  fondly  supposes  that  his  con- 
clusion is  from  first  to  last  based  on  cold  logic. 

The  Basis  of  Suggestion 

We  must  think  of  suggestion  both  as  an  effect  and  as  a 
cause.  Considered  as  an  effect,  or  objectively,  there  must 
be  something  in  the  hearer  that  predisposes  him  to  receive 
suggestion;  considered  as  a  cause,  or  subjectively,  there 
must  be  some  methods  by  which  the  speaker  can  move 
upon  that  particularly  susceptible  attitude  of  the  hearer. 
How  to  do  this  honestly  and  fairly  is  our  problem — to  do 
it  dishonestly  and  trickily,  to  use  suggestion  to  bring 
about  conviction  and  action  without  a  basis  of  right  and 
truth  and  in  a  bad  cause,  is  to  assume  the  terrible  responsi- 
bility that  must  fall  on  the  champion  of  error.  Jesus 
scorned  not  to  use  suggestion  so  that  he  might  move  men 
to  their  benefit,  but  every  vicious  trickster  has  adopted 
the  same  means  to  reach  base  ends.  Therefore  honest 
men  will  examine  well  into  their  motives  and  into  the 
truth  of  their  cause,  before  seeking  to  influence  men  by 

Three  fundamental  conditions  make  us  all  susceptive  to 

We  naturally  respect  authority.  In  every  mind  this 
is  only  a  question  of  degree,  ranging  from  the  subject 
who  is  easily  hypnotized  to  the  stubborn  mind  that  forti- 


fies  itself  the  more  strongly  with  every  assault  upon  its 
opinion.    The  latter  type  is  almost  immune  to  suggestion. 

One  of  the  singular  things  about  suggestion  is  that  it  is 
rarely  a  fixed  quantity.  The  mind  that  is  receptive  to  the 
authority  of  a  certain  person  may  prove  inflexible  to 
another;  moods  and  environments  that  produce  hypnosis 
readily  in  one  instance  may  be  entirely  inoperative  in 
another;  and  some  minds  can  scarcely  ever  be  thus  moved. 
We  do  know,  however,  that  the  feeling  of  the  subject  that 
authority — ^influence,  power,  domination,  control,  what- 
ever you  wish  to  call  it — lies  in  the  person  of  the  suggester, 
is  the  basis  of  all  suggestion. 

The  extreme  force  of  this  influence  is  demonstrated  in 
h3aioptism.  The  hjoioptic  subject  is  told  that  he  is  in  the 
water;  he  accepts  the  statement  as  true  and  makes  swim- 
ming motions.  He  is  told  that  a  band  is  marching  down 
the  street,'^playing  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner;"  he 
declares  he  hears  the  music,  arises  and  stands  with  head 

In  the]^same^way  some  speakers  are  able  to  achieve  a 
modified  hypnotic  effect  upon  their  audiences.  The 
hearers^will.;,applaud  measures  and  ideas  which,  after  in- 
dividual reflection,  they  will  repudiate  unless  such  reflec- 
tion brings  the^^conviction  that  the  first  impression  is 

A  second  important  principle  is  that  owr  fedings, 
thoughts  and  wills  tend  to  follow  the  line  of  least  resistance. 
Once  open  the  mind  to  the  sway  of  one  feeling  and  it 
requires  a  greater  power  of  feeling,  thought,,  or  will — 
or  even^all  three — to  unseat  it.     Our  feelings  influence 


our  judgments  and  volitions  much  more  than  we  care 
to  admit.  So  true  is  this  that  it  is  a  superhuman  task 
to  get  an  audience  to  reason  fairly  on  a  subject  on  which 
it  feels  deeply,  and  when  this  result  is  accomplished  the 
success  becomes  noteworthy,  as  in  the  case  of  Henry 
Ward  Beecher's  Liverpool  speech.  Emotional  ideas  once 
accepted  are  soon  cherished,  and  finally  become  our  very 
inmost  selves.  Attitudes  based  on  feelings  alone  are 

What  is  true  of  our  feelings,  in  this  respect,  applies  to 
our  ideas:  All  thoughts  that  enter  the  mind  tend  to  be 
accepted  as  truth  unless  a  stronger  and  contradictory 
thought  arises. 

The  speaker  skilled  in  moving  men  to  action  manages  to 
dominate  the  minds  of  his  audience  with  his  thoughts  by 
subtly  prohibiting  the  entertaining  of  ideas  hostile  to  his 
own.  Most  of  us  are  captured  by  the  latest  strong  attack, 
and  if  we  can  be  induced  to  act  while  under  the  stress  of 
that  last  insistent  thoiight,  we  lose  sight  of  counter  in- 
fluences. The  fact  is  that  almost  all  our  decisions — ^if  they 
involve  thought  at  all — are  of  this  sort:  At  the  moment 
of  decision  the  course  of  action  then  under  contemplation 
usiups  the  attention,  and  conflicting  ideas  are  dropped 
out  of  consideration. 

The  head  of  a  large  publishing  house  remarked  only 
recently  that  ninety  per  cent  of  the  people  who  bought 
books  by  subscription  never  read  them.  They  buy  be- 
cause the  salesman  presents  his  wares  so  skillfully  that 
every  consideration  but  the  attractiveness  of  the  book 
drops  out  of  the  mind,  and  that  thought  prompts  action. 


Every  idea  that  enters  the  mind  wiU  result  in  action  unless 
a  contradictory  thought  arises  to  prohibit  it.  Think  of 
singing  the  musical  scale  and  it  will  result  in  your  singing 
it  unless  the  counter-thought  of  its  futility  or  absurdity 
inhibits  your  action.  If  you  bandage  and  ''doctor"  a 
horse's  foot,  he  will  go  lame.  You  cannot  think  of  swal- 
lowing, without  the  muscles  used  in  that  process  being 
affected.  You  cannot  think  of  saying  ''hello/'  without 
a  slight  movement  of  the  muscles  of  speech.  To  warn 
children  that  they  should  not  put  beans  up  their  noses 
is  the  surest  method  of  getting  them  to  do  it.  Every 
thought  called  up  in  the  mind  of  your  audience  will  work 
either  for  or  against  you.  Thoughts  are  not  dead  matter; 
they  radiate  dynamic  energy — ^the  thoughts  all  tend  to 
pass  into  action.  "Thought  is  another  name  for 
fate."  Dominate  your  hearers'  thoughts,  allay  all  con- 
tradictory ideas,  and  you  will  sway  them  as  you  wish. 

Volitions  as  well  as  feelings  and  thoughts  tend  to 
follow  the  line  of  least  resistance.  That  is  what  makes 
habit.  Suggest  to  a  man  that  it  is  impossible  to  change  his 
mind  and  in  most  cases  it  becomes  more  difficult  to  do  so 
— ^the  exception  is  the  man  who  naturally  jumps  to  the 
contrary.  Counter  suggestion  is  the  only  way  to  reach 
him.  Suggest  subtly  and  persistently  that  the  opinions 
of  those  in  the  audience  who  are  opposed  to  your  views 
are  changing,  and  it  requires  an  effort  of  the  will — ^in  fact, 
a  simimoning  of  the  forces  of  feeling,  thought  and  will — 
to  stem  the  tide  of  change  that  has  subconsciously  set  in. 

But,  not  only  are  we  moved  by  authority,  and  tend  to- 
ward channels  of  least  resistance:   We  are  all  influenced  by 


owr  etmronmefUs,  It  is  difficult  to  rise  above  the  sway  of 
a  crowd — ^its  enthusiasms  and  its  fears  are  contagious  be- 
cause they  are  suggestive.  What  so  many  feel,  we  say  to 
ourselves,  must  have  some  basis  in  truth.  Ten  times  ten 
makes  more  than  one  hundred.  Set  ten  men  to  speaking 
to  ten  audiences  of  ten  men  each,  and  compare  the  aggre- 
gate power  of  those  ten  speakers  with  that  of  one  man 
addressing  one  hundred  men.  The  ten  speakers  may  be 
more  logically  convincing  than  the  single  orator,  but  the 
chances  are  strongly  in  favor  of  the  one  man's  reaching  a 
greater  total  eflFect,  for  the  hundred  men  will  radiate 
conviction  and  resolution  as  ten  small  groups  could 
not.  We  all  know  the  truism  about  the  enthusiasm  of 
numbers.     (See  the  chapter  on  "Influencing  the  Crowd.") 

Environment  controls  us  unless  the  contrary  is  strongly 
suggested.  A  gloomy  day,  in  a  drab  room,  sparsely 
tenanted  by  listeners,  invites  platform  disaster.  Everyone 
feels  it  in  the  air.  But  let  the  speaker  walk  squarely  up 
to  the  issue  and  suggest  by  all  his  feeling,  manner  and 
words  that  this  is  going  to  be  a  great  gathering  in  every 
vital  sense,  and  see  how  the  suggestive  power  of  environ- 
ment recedes  before  the  advance  of  a  more  potent  sugges- 
tion— ^if  such  the  speaker  is  able  to  make  it. 

Now  these  three  factors — respect  for  authority,  tend- 
ency to  follow  lines  of  least  resistance,  and  susceptibility 
to  environment — all  help  to  bring  the  auditor  into  a  state 
of  mind  favorable  to  suggestive  influences,  but  they  also 
react  on  the  speaker,  and  now  we  must  consider  those 
personally  causative,  or  subjective,  forces  which  enable 
him  to  use  suggestion  effectively. 


How  the  Speaker  Can  Make  Suggestion  Effective 

We  have  seen  that  under  the  influence  of  authoritative 
suggestion  the  audience  is  inclined  to  accept  the  speaker's 
assertion  without  argument  and  criticism.  But  the  audi- 
ence is  not  in  this  state  of  mind  imless  it  has  implicit  con- 
fidence in  the  speaker.  If  they  lack  faith  in  him,  question 
his  motives  or  knowledge,  or  even  object  to  his  manner, 
they  will  not  be  moved  by  his  most  logical  conclusions 
and  will  fail  to  give  him  a  just  hearing.  It  is  all  a  maUer 
of  their  confidence  in  him.  Whether  the  speaker  finds  it 
already  in  the  warm,  expectant  look  of  his  hearers,  or 
must  win  to  it  against  opposition  or  coldness,  he  must 
gain  that  one  great  vantage  point  before  his  suggestions 
take  on  power  in  the  hearts  of  his  listeners.  Confidence 
is  the  mother  of  Conviction. 

Note  in  the  opening  of  Henry  W.  Grady's  after-dinner 
speech  how  he  attempted  to  secure  the  confidence  of  his 
audience.  He  created  a  receptive  atmosphere  by  a 
humorous  story;  expressed  his  desire  to  speak  with 
earnestness  and  sincerity;  acknowledged  "the  vast  in- 
terests involved;"  deprecated  his  "untried  arm,"  and 
professed  his  humility.  Would  not  such  an  introduc- 
tion give  you  confidence  in  the  speaker,  unless  you  were 
strongly  opposed  to  him?  And  even  then,  would  it  not 
partly  disarm  your  antagonism? 

Mr,  President: — Bidden  by  your  invitation  to  a  discussion  of 
the  race  problem — ^forbidden  by  occasion  to  make  a  political 
speech — ^I  appreciate,  in  trying  to  reconcile  orders  with  propriety, 
the  perplexity  of  the  little  maid,  who,  bidden  to  learn  to  swim. 


was  yet  adjured,  "Now,  go,  my  darling;   hang  your  clothes  on 
a  hickory  limb,  and  don't  go  near  the  water." 

The  stoutest  apostle  of  the  Church,  they  say,  is  the  missionary, 
and  the  missionary,  wherever  he  unfurls  his  flag,  will  never  find 
himself  in  deeper  need  of  unction  and  address  than  I,  bidden 
tonight  to  plant  the  standard  of  a  Southern  Democrat  in  Boston's 
banquet  hall,  and  to  discuss  the  problem  of  the  races  in  the  home 
of  Phillips  and  of  Sumner.  But,  Mr.  President,  if  a  purpose  to 
speak  in  perfect  frankness  and  sincerity;  if  earnest  understand- 
ing of  the  vast  interests  involved;  if  a  consecrating  sense  of  what 
disaster  may  follow  further  misunderstanding  and  estrangement; 
if  these  may  be  coimted  to  steady  undisciplined  speech  and  to 
strengthen  an  untried  arm — ^then,  sir,  I  shall  find  the  courage 
to  proceed. 

Note  also  Mr.  Bryan's  attempt  to  secure  the  confidence 
of  his  audience  in  the  following  introduction  to  his  ''Cross 
of  Gold"  speech  delivered  before  the  National  Demo- 
cratic Convention  in  Chicago,  1896.  He  asserts  his  own 
inability  to  oppose  the  "distinguished  gentleman;"  he 
maintains  the  holiness  of  his  cause;  and  he  declares  that 
he  will  speak  in  the  interest  of  humanity — well  knowing 
that  humanity  is  likely  to  have  confidence  in  the  champion 
of  their  rights.  This  introduction  completely  dominated 
the  audience,  and  the  speech  made  Mr.  Bryan  famous. 

Mr.  Chairman  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Convention:  I  would 
be  presumptuous  indeed  to  present  myself  against  the  distin- 
guished gentlemen  to  whom  you  have  listened  if  this  were  a  mere 
measuring  of  abilities;  but  this  is  not  a  contest  between  persons. 
The  humblest  citizen  in  all  the  land,  when  clad  in  the  armor  of  a 
righteous  cause,  is  stronger  than  all  the  hosts  of  error.  I  come  to 
speak  to  you  in  defense  of  a  cause  as  holy  as  the  cause  of  liberty — 
the  cause  of  humanity. 

Some  speakers  are  able  to  beget  confidence  by  their  very 
manner,  while  others  can  not. 


To  secure  confidencey  be  canfideni.  How  can  you  expect 
others  to  accept  a  message  in  which  you  lack,  or  seem  to 
lack,  faith  yourself?  Confidence  is  as  contagious  as  disease. 
Napoleon  rebuked  an  officer  for  using  the  word  "impossi- 
ble" in  his  presence.  The  speaker  who  will  entertain  no 
idea  of  defeat  begets  in  his  hearers  the  idea  of  his  victory- 
Lady  Macbeth  was  so  confident  of  success  that  Macbeth 
changed  his  mind  about  undertaking  the  assassination. 
Columbus  was  so  certain  in  his  mission  that  Queen 
Isabella  pawned  her  jewels  to  finance  his  expedition. 
Assert  your  message  with  implicit  assurance,  and  your  own 
belief  will  act  as  so  much  gunpowder  to  drive  it  home. 

Advertisers  have  long  utilized  this  principle.  "The 
machine  you  will  eventually  buy,"  "Ask  the  man  who 
owns  one,"  "Has  the  strength  of  Gibraltar,"  are  publicity 
slogans  so  full  of  confidence  that  they  give  birth  to  con- 
fidence in  the  mind  of  the  reader. 

It  should — ^but  may  not! — go  without  saying  that  con- 
fidence must  have  a  solid  ground  of  merit  or  there  will  be 
a  ridiculous  crash.  It  is  all  very  well  for  the  "spell- 
binder" to  claim  all  the  precincts — the  official  coimt  is 
just  ahead.  The  reaction  against  over-confidence  and 
over-suggestion  ought  to  warn  those  whose  chief  asset  is 
mere  bluff. 

A  short  time  ago  a  speaker  arose  in  a  public-speaking 
club  and  asserted  that  grass  would  spring  from  wood- 
ashes  sprinkled  over  the  soil,  without  the  aid  of  seed. 
This  idea  was  greeted  with  a  laugh,  but  the  speaker  was 
so  sure  of  his  position  that  he  reiterated  the  statement 
forcefully  several  times  and  dted  his  own  personal  experi- 


ence  as  proof.  One  of  the  most  intelligent  men  in  the 
audience,  who  at  first  had  derided  the  idea,  at  length  came 
to  believe  in  it.  When  asked  the  reason  for  his  sudden 
change  of  attitude,  he  replied:  ''Because  the  speaker  is 
so  confident."  In  fact,  he  was  so  confident  that  it  took  a 
letter  from  the  U.  S.  Department  of  Agriculture  to  dis- 
lodge his  error. 

If  by  a  speaker's  confidence,  intelligent  men  can  be 
made  to  believe  such  preposterous  theories  as  this  where 
will  the  power  of  self-reliance  cease  when  plausible  proposi- 
tions are  under  consideration,  advanced  with  all  the  power 
of  convincing  speech? 

Note  the  utter  assurance  in  these  selections: 

I  know  not  what  course  others  may  take,  but  as  for  me  give 
me  liberty  or  give  me  death.-^PATWCK  Henry. 

I  ne'er  will  ask  ye  quarter,  and  I  ne'er  will  be  your  slave; 
But  I'll  swim  the  sea  of  slaughter,  till  I  sink  beneath  its  wave. 

— Patten. 

Come  one,  come  all.    This  rock  shall  fly 
Prom  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I. 

— Sir  Walter  Scott. 


Out  of  the  night  that  covers  me, 

Black  as  the  pit  from  pole  to  pole, 
I  thank  whatever  Gods  may  be 

For  my  unconquerable  soul. 

In  the  fell  clutch  of  circumstance 

I  have  not  winced  nor  cried  aloud; 
Under  the  bludgeonings  of  chance 

My  head  is  bloody,  but  unbowed. 



Beyond  this  place  of  wrath  and  tears 

Looms  but  the  Horror  of  the  shade, 
And  yet  the  menace  of  the  years 

Finds  and  shall  find  me  unafraid. 

It  matters  not  how  strait  the  gate, 

How  charged  with  punishments  the  scroll, 

I  am  the  master  of  my  fate; 
I  am  the  captain  of  my  soul. 

— ^WiLLiAM  Ernest  Henley. 

Authority  is  a  factor  in  suggestion.  We  generally  accept 
as  truth,  and  without  criticism,  the  words  of  an  authority. 
When  he  speaks,  contradictory  ideas  rarely  arise  in  the 
mind  to  inhibit  the  action  he  suggests.  A  judge  of  the 
Supreme  Court  has  the  power  of  his  words  multiplied  by 
the  virtue  of  his  position.  The  ideas  of  the  U.  S.  Commis- 
sioner of  Immigration  on  his  subject  are  much  more 
effective  and  powerful  than  those  of  a  soap  manufacturer, 
though  the  latter  may  be  an  able  economist. 

This  principle  also  has  been  used  in  advertising.  We 
are  told  that  the  physicians  to  two  Kings  have  rec- 
onmiended  Sanatogen.  We  are  informed  that  the  largest 
bank  in  America,  Tiffany  and  Co.,  and  The  State,  War, 
and  Navy  Departments,  all  use  the  Encyclopedia  Bri- 
tannica.  The  shrewd  promoter  gives  stock  in  his  company 
to  influential  bankers  or  business  men  in  the  community 
in  order  that  he  may  use  their  examples  as  a  selling 

If  you  wish  to  influence  your  audience  through  sugges- 
tion, if  you  would  have  your  statements  accepted  without 
criticism  or  argument,  you  should  appear  in  the  light  of 
an  authority — and  be  one.    Ignorance  and  credulity  will 


remain  unchanged  unless  the  suggestion  of  authority  be 
followed  promptly  by  facts.  Don't  claim  authority  un- 
less you  carry  your  license  in  your  pocket.  Let  reason 
support  the  position  that  suggestion  has  assumed. 

Advertising  will  help  to  establish  your  reputation — 
it  is  "up  to  you"  to  maintain  it.  One  speaker  foimd  that 
his  reputation  as  a  magazine  writer  was  a  splendid  asset 
as  a  speaker.  Mr.  Bryan's  publicity,  gained  by  three 
nominations  for  the  presidency  and  his  position  as  Secre- 
tary of  State,  helps  him  to  conmiand  large  sums  as  a 
speaker.  But — ^back  of  it  all,  he  15  a  great  speaker.  News- 
paper announcements,  all  kinds  of  advertising,  formality, 
impressive  introductions,  all  have  a  capital  effect  on  the 
attitude  of  the  audience.  But  how  ridiculous  are  all  these 
if  a  toy  pistol  is  advertised  as  a  sixteen-inch  gun! 

Note  how  authority  is  used  in  the  following  to  support 
the  strength  of  the  speaker's  appeal: 

Professor  Alfred  Russell  Wallace  has  just  celebrated  his  90th 
birthday.  Sharing  with  Charles  Darwin  the  honor  of  discovering 
evolution,  Professor  Wallace  has  lately  received  many  and  signal 
honors  from  scientific  societies.  At  the  dinner  given  him  in 
London  his  address  was  largely  made  up  of  reminiscences.  He 
reviewed  the  progress  of  civilization  during  the  last  century  and 
made  a  series  of  brilliant  and  startling  contrasts  between  the 
England  of  1813  and  the  world  of  1913.  He  affirmed  that  our 
progress  is  only  seeming  and  not  real.  Professor  Wallace  insists 
that  the  painters,  the  sculptors,  the  architects  of  Athens  and 
Rome  were  so  superior  to  the  modem  men  that  the  very  fragments 
of  their  marbles  and  temples  are  the  despair  of  the  present  day 
artists.  He  tells  us  that  man  has  improved  his  telescope  and 
spectacles,  but  that  he  is  losing  his  eyesight;  that  man  is  improv- 
ing his  looms,  but  stiffening  his  fingers;  improving  his  automobile 
and  his  locomotive,  but  losing  his  legs;  improving  his  foods,  but 


losing  his  digestion.  He  adds  that  the  modem  white  slave  traffic, 
orphan  asylums,  and  tenement  house  life  in  factory  towns,  make 
a  black  page  in  the  history  of  the  twentieth  century. 

Professor  Wallace's  views  are  reinforced  by  the  report  of  the 
commission  of  Parliament  on  the  causes  of  the  deterioration  of 
the  factory-class  people.  In  our  own  country  Professor  Jordan 
warns  us  against  war,  intemperance,  overworking,  underfeeding 
of  poor  children,  and  disturbs  our  contentment  with  his  "  Harvest 
of  Blood."  Professor  Jenks  is  more  pessimistic.  He  thinks 
that  the  pace,  the  climate,  and  the  stress  of  city  life,  have  broken 
down  the  Puritan  stock,  that  in  another  century  our  old  families 
will  be  extinct,  and  that  the  flood  of  immigration  means  a  Niagara 
of  muddy  waters  fouling  the  pure  springs  of  American  life.  In 
his  address  in  New  Haven  Professor  Kellogg  calls  the  roll  of  the 
signs  of  race  degeneracy  and  tells  us  that  this  deterioration  even 
indicates  a  trend  toward  race  extinction. 

— Newell  Dwicar  Hnxis. 

Prom  every  side  come  warnings  to  the  American  people.  Our 
medical  journals  are  filled  with  danger  signals;  new  books  and 
magazines,  fresh^from'^the  press,  tell  us  plainly  that  our  people 
are  fronting  a  social  crisis.  Mr.  Jefferson,  who  was  once  regarded 
as  good  Democraticjauthority,  seems  to  have  differed  in  opinion 
from  the  gentleman^who^has  addressed  us  on  the  part  of  the 
minority.  Those^who  are  opposed  to  this  proposition  tell  us  that 
the  issue  of  paper  money  is  a  function  of  the  bank,  and  that  the 
government  ought  to  go  out  of  the  banking  business.  I  stand 
with  Jefferson  rather  than  with  them,  and  tell  them,  as  he  did, 
that  the  issue^^of^money  is  a  function  of  government,  and  that 
the  banks  ought^to  go  out  of  the  governing  business. 

— William  Jennings  Brtan. 

Authority  is  the  great  weapon  against  doubt,  but  even 
its  force  can  rarely  prevail  against  prejudice  and  per- 
sistent wrong-headedness.  If  any  speaker  has  been  able 
to  forge  a  sword  that  is  warranted  to  piece  such  armor,  let 
him  bless  humanity  by  sharing  his  secret  with  his  plat- 


form  brethren  everywhere,  for  thus  far  he  is  alone  in  his 

There  is  a  middle-ground  between  the  suggestion  of 
authority  and  the  confession  of  weakness  that  offers  a 
wide  range  for  tact  in  the  speaker.  No  one  can  advise 
you  when  to  throw  your  "hat  in  the  ring"  and  say  de- 
fiantly at  the  outstart,  "Gentlemen,  I  am  here  to  fight!" 
Theodore  Roosevelt  can  do  that — Beecher  would  have 
been  mobbed  if  he  had  begun  in  that  style  at  Liverpool. 
It  is  for  your  own  tact  to  decide  whether  you  will  use  the 
disarming  grace  of  Henry  W.  Grady's  introduction  just 
quoted  (even  the  time-worn  joke  was  ingenuous  and 
seemed  to  say,  "Gentlemen,  I  come  to  you  with  no  care- 
fully-palmed coins"),  or  whether  the  solemn  gravity  of 
Mr.  Bryan  before  the  Convention  will  prove  to  be  more 
effective.  Only  be  sure  that  your  opening  attitude  is  well 
thought  out,  and  if  it  change  as  you  warm  up  to  yoiur 
subject,  let  not  the  change  lay  you  open  to  a  revulsion  of 
feeling  in  your  audience. 

Example  is  a  powerful  means  of  suggestion.  As  we  saw 
while  thinking  of  environment  in  its  effects  on  an  audience, 
we  do,  without  the  usual  amount  of  hesitation  and  criti- 
cism, what  others  are  doing.  Paris  wears  certain  hats  and 
gowns;  the  rest  of  the  world  imitates.  The  child  mimics 
the  actions,  accents  and  intonations  of  the  parent.  Were 
a  child  never  to  hear  anyone  speak,  he  would  never 
acquire  the  power  of  speech,  imless  imder  most  arduous 
training,  and  even  then  only  imperfectly.  One  of  the 
biggest  department  stores  in  the  United  States  spends 
fortunes  on  one  advertising  slogan:  "Everybody  is  going 


to  the  big  store."   That  makes  everybody  want  to  go. 

You  can  reinforce  the  power  of  your  message  by  showing 
that  it  has  been  widely  accepted.  Political  organizations 
subsidize  applause  to  create  the  impression  that  their 
speakers'  ideas  are  warmly  received  and  approved  by  the 
audience.  The  advocates  of  the  commission-fonn  of 
government  of  cities,  the  champions  of  votes  for  wonaen, 
reserve  as  their  strongest  arguments  the  fact  that  a  num- 
ber of  cities  and  states  have  already  successfully  accepted 
their  plans.  Advertisements  use  the  testimonial  for  its 
poorer  of  suggestion. 

Observe  how  this  principle  has  been  applied  in  the  fol- 
lowing selections,  and  utilize  it  on  every  occasion  possible 
in  your  attempts  to  influence  through  suggestion: 

The  war  is  actually  begun.  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from 
the  North  will  bring  to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms. 
Our  brethren  are  already  in  the  field.    Why  stand  ye  here  idle? 

— Patrick  Henxy. 

With  a  zeal  approaching  the  zeal  which  inspired  the  Crusaders 
who  followed  Peter  the  Hermit,  our  silver  Democrats  went  forth 
from  victory  unto  victory  until  they  are  now  assembled,  not  to 
discuss,  not  to  debate,  but  to  enter  up  the  judgment  already 
rendered  by  the  plain  people  of  this  country.  In  this  contest 
brother  has  been  arrayed  against  brother,  father  against  son. 
The  warmest  ties  of  love,  acquaintance,  and  association  have  been 
disregarded;  old  leaders  have  been  cast  aside  when  they  refused 
to  give  expression  to  the  sentiments  of  those  whom  they  wotdd 
lead,  and  new  leaders  have  sprung  up  to  give  direction  to  this 
cause  of  truth.  Thus  has  the  contest  been  waged,  and  we  have 
assembled  here  under  as  binding  and  solemn  instructions  as  were 
ever  imposed  upon  representatives  of  the  people. 

— Wn^LiAM  Jennings  Bryan. 


Figurative  and  indirect  language  has  suggestive  farce, 
because  it  does  not  make  statements  that  can  be  directly 
disputed.  It  arouses  no  contradictory  ideas  in  the  minds 
of  the  audience,  thereby  fulfilling  one  of  the  basic  req- 
uisites of  suggestion.  By  implying  a  conclusion  in  indi- 
rect or  figurative  language  it  is  often  asserted  most 

Note  that  in  the  following  Mr.  Bryan  did  not  say  that 
Mr.  McKinley  would  be  defeated.  He  implied  it  in  a 
much  more  effective  manner: 

Mr.  McKinley  was  nominated  at  St.  Louis  upon  a  platform 
which  declared  for  the  maintenance  of  the  gold  standard  until 
it  can  be  changed  into  bimetaUism  by  international  agreement. 
Mr.  McKinley  was  the  most  popular  man  among  the  Republicans, 
and  three  months  ago  everybody  in  the  Republican  party 
prophesied  his  election.  How  is  it  today?  Why,  the  man  who 
was  once  pleased  to  think  that  he  looked  like  Napoleon — ^that 
man  shudders  today  when  he  remembers  that  he  was  nominated 
on  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  Not  only  that,  but 
as  he  listens  he  can  hear  with  ever-increasing  distinctness  the 
sound  of  the  waves  as  they  beat  upon  the  lonely  shores  of  St. 

Had  Thomas  Carlyle  said:  ''A  false  man  cannot  found 
a  religion/'  his  words  would  have  been  neither  so  sugges- 
tive nor  so  powerful,  nor  so  long  remembered  as  his  impli- 
cation in  these  striking  words: 

A  false  man  found  a  religion?  Why,  a  false  man  cannot  build 
a  brick  house!  If  he  does  not  know  and  follow  truly  the  proper- 
ties of  mortar,  burnt  clay,  and  what  else  he  works  in,  it  is  no 
house  that  he  makes,  but  a  rubbish  heap.  It  will  not  stand  for 
twelve  centuries,  to  lodge  a  htmdred  and  eighty  millions;  it  will 


fall  straightway.  A  man  must  confonn  himself  to  Nature's 
laws,  be  verily  in  communion  with  Nature  and  the  truth  of  things* 
or  Nature  will  answer  him,  No,  not  at  all! 

Observe  how  the  picture  that  Webster  draws  here  is 
much  more  emphatic  and  forceful  than  any  mere  asser- 
tion could  be: 

Sir,  I  know  not  how  others  may  feel,  but  as  for  myself  when  I 
see  my  alma  maier  surrounded,  like  Caesar  in  the  senate  house, 
by  those  who  are  reiterating  stab  after  stab,  I  would  not  for  this 
right  hand  have  her  turn  to  me  and  say,  "And  thou,  too,  my 
son!" — Webster. 

A  speech  should  be  built  on  soimd  logical  foundations, 
and  no  man  should  dare  to  speak  in  behalf  of  a  fallacy. 
Arguing  a  subject,  however,  will  necessarily  arouse  con- 
tradictory ideas  in  the  mind  of  your  audience.  When 
inmiediate  action  or  persuasion  is  desired,  suggestion  is 
more  efficacious  than  argimient — ^when  both  are  judi- 
ciously mixed,  the  effect  is  irresistible. 


1.  Make  an  outline,  or  brief,  of  the  contents  of  this 

2.  Revise  the  introduction  to  any  of  your  written 
addresses,  with  the  teachings  of  this  chapter  in  mind. 

3.  Give  two  original  examples  of  the  power  of  sugges- 
tion as  you  have  observed  it  in  each  of  these  fields:  (a) 
advertising;   (b)  politics;   (c)  public  sentiment. 

4.  Give  original  examples  of  suggestive  speech,  illus- 
trating two  of  the  principles  set  forth  in  this  chapter. 


5.  What  reasons  can  you  give  that  disprove  the  gen- 
eral contention  of  this  chapter? 

6.  What  reasons  not  abready  given  seem  to  you  to 
support  it? 

7.  What  effect  do  his  own  suggestions  have  on  the 
speaker  himself  ? 

8.  Can  suggestion  arise  from  the  audience?    If  so, 
show  how. 

9.  Select  two  instances  of  suggestion  in  the  speeches 
found  in  the  Appendix. 

10.  Change  any  two  passages  in  the  same,  or  other, 
q)eeches  so  as  to  use  suggestion  more  effectively. 

11.  Deliver  those  passages  in  the  revised  form. 

12.  Choosing  your  own  subject,  prepare  and  deliver 
a  short  speech  largely  in  the  suggestive  style. 



Common  sense  is  the  common  sense  of  mankind.  It  is  the 
product  of  common  observation  and  experience.  It  is  modest, 
plain,  and  unsophisticated.  It  sees  with  everybody's  eyes,  and 
hears  with  everybody's  ears.  It  has  no  capricious  distinctions, 
no  perplexities,  and  no  mysteries.  It  never  equivocates,  and 
never  trifles.  Its  language  is  always  intelligible.  It  is  known  by 
clearness  of  speech  and  singleness  of  purpose. 

— Gborgb  Jacob  Holyoakb,  PMic  Speaking  and  DdfoU. 

The  very  name  of  logic  is  awesome  to  most  young  speak- 
ers, but  so  soon  as  they  come  to  realize  that  its  processes, 
even  when  most  intricate,  are  merely  technical  statements 
of  the  truths  enforced  by  common  sense,  it  will  lose  its 
terrors.  In  fact,  logid  is  a  fascinating  subject,  well  worth 
the  public  speaker's  study,  for  it  explains  the  principles 
that  govern  the  use  of  argimient  and  proof. 

Argimientation  is  the  process  of  producing  conviction 
by  means  of  reasoning.  Other  ways  of  producing  convic- 
tion there  are,  notably  suggestion,  as  we  have  just  shown, 
but  no  means  is  so  high,  so  worthy  of  respect,  as  the 
adducing  of  sound  reasons  in  support  of  a  contention. 

Since  more  than  one  side  of  a  subject  must  be  considered 
before  we  can  claim  to  have  deliberated  upon  it  fairly, 
we  ought  to  think  of  argumentation  imder  two  aspects: 

1  MoCoflh*!  Lcgie  k  a  helpful  Tt>lum«,  mmI  not  too  teohnieftl  for  the  befiaaer. 
A  brief  digest  of  logioal  prinoiples  m  applied  to  publio  ipeakint  ia  ooatained  in 
How  to  AUraei  and  Hold  an  AtidiencOt  by  J.  Berg  BeenweiB. 


building  up  an  argument,  and  tearing  down  an  aigument; 
that  is,  you  must  not  only  examine  into  the  stability  of 
your  structure  of  argument  so  that  it  may  both  support 
the  proposition  you  intend  to  probe  and  yet  be  so  sound 
that  it  cannot  be  overthrown  by  opponents,  but  you  must 
also  be  so  keen  to  detect  defects  in  argument  that  you 
will  be  able  to  demolish  the  weaker  arguments  of  those 
who  argue  against  you. 

We  can  consider  argimientation  only  generally,  leaving 
minute  and  technical  discussions  to  such  excellent  works 
as  George  P.  Baker's  ''The  Principles  of  Argumentation/' 
and  George  Jacob  Holyoake's  ''Public  Speaking  and 
Debate."  Any  good  college  rhetoric  also  will  give  help 
on  the  subject,  especially  the  works  of  John  Franklin 
Genung  and  Adams  Sherman  Hill.  The  student  is  urged 
to  familiarize  himself  with  at  least  one  of  these  texts. 

The  foUowing  series  of  questions  will,  it  is  hoped,  serve 
a  triple  purpose:  that  of  suggesting  the  forms  of  proof 
together  with  the  ways  in  which  they  may  be  used; 
that  of  helping  the  speaker  to  test  the  strength  of  his 
arguments;  and  that  of  enabling  the  speaker  to  attack 
his  opponent's  arguments  with  both  keenness  and  justice. 


I.  The  Quesxign  Under  Discussion 
I.  Is  U  clearly  staied? 

(a)  Do  the  terms  of  statement  mean  the  same  to 
each  disputant?  (For  example,  the  meaning 
of  the  term  "gentleman"  may  not  be  mutu- 
ally agreed  upon.) 


(b)  Is  confusion  likdy  to  arise  as  to  its  puipoae? 

2.  Is  U  fairly  stated? 

(a)  Does  it  indude  enough? 

(b)  Does  it  indude  too  mudi? 

(c)  Is  it  stated  so  as  to  contain  a  trap? 

3.  IsUa  debatable  question? 

4.  What  is  the  pivotal  point  in  the  whole  qttestian? 

5.  What  are  the  subordinate  points? 
n.  The  Evidence 

1.  The  witnesses  as  to  facts 

(a)  Is  each  witness  impartial?   What  b  his  rela- 
tion to  the  subject  at  issue? 
(i)  Is  he  mentally  competent? 

(c)  Is  he  morally  credible? 

(d)  Is  he  in  a  position  to  know  the  facts?   Is  he 
an  eye-witness? 

(e)  Is  he  a  willing  witness? 

(/)  Is  his  testimony  contradicted? 
{g)  Is  his  testimony  corroborated? 
(h)  Is  his  testimony  contrary  to  well-known 

facts  or  general  prindples? 
(i)  Is  it  probable? 

2.  The  authorities  cited  as  evidence 

(a)  Is  the  authority  well-recognized  as  such? 

(b)  What  constitutes  him  an  authority? 

(c)  Is  his  interest  in  the  case  an  impartial 

(d)  Does  he  state  his  opinion  positivdy  and 

(e)  Are    the    non-personal    authorities    dted 


(books,   etc.)   reliable   and   unprejudiced? 

3.  The  fads  adduced  as  evidence 

(a)  Are  they  sufficient  in  number  to  constitute 

ib)  Are  they  weighty  enough  in  character? 

(c)  Are  they  in  harmony  with  reason? 

(d)  Are  they  mutually  harmonious  or  contra- 

(e)  Are  they  admitted,  doubted,  or  disputed? 

4.  The  principles  adduced  as  evidence 

(a)  Are  they  axiomatic? 

(b)  Are  they  truths  of  general  experience? 

(c)  Are  they  truths  of  special  experience? 

(d)  Are  they  truths  arrived  at  by  experiment? 

Were    such     experiments   special    or 

Were   the   experiments  authoritative 
and  conclusive? 
m.  The  Reasoning 
I.  InducHons 

(a)  Are  the  facts  numerous  enough  to  warrant 
accepting  the  generalization  as  being  con- 

(b)  Do  the  facts  agree  only  when  considered  in 
the  light  of  this  explanation  as  a  conclusion? 

(c)  Have  you  overlooked  any  contradictory 

(d)  Are  the  contradictory  facts  sufficiently  ex- 
plained when  this  inference  is  accepted  as 


(e)  Are  all  contrary  positions  shown  to  be  rela- 
tively untenable? 

(f)  Have  you  accepted  mere  opinions  as  facts? 

2.  Deductions 

(a)  Is  the  law  or  general  principle  a  wdl- 

established  one? 
(jb)  Does  the  law  or  principle  clearly  include  the 

fact  you  wish  to  deduce  from  it,  or  have  you 

strained  the  inference? 

(c)  Does  the  importance  of  the  law  or  principle 
warrant  so  important  an  inference? 

(d)  Can  the  deduction  be  shown  to  prove  too 

3.  Parallel  cases 

(a)  Are  the  cases  parallel  at  enough  points  to 
warrant  an  inference  of  similar  cause  or 

(b)  Are  the  cases  parallel  at  the  vital  point  at 

(c)  Has  the  parallelism  been  strained? 

(d)  Are  there  no  other  parallels  that  would  point 
to  a  stronger  contrary  conclusion? 

4.  Inferences 

(a)  Are  the  antecedent  conditions  such  as  would 
make  the  allegation  probable?  (Character 
and  opportunities  of  the  accused,  for  ex- 

(b)  Are  the  signs  that  point  to  the  inference 
either  clear  or  numerous  enough  to  warrant 
its  acceptance  as  fact? 


(c)  Are  the  signs  cumulative,  and  agreeable  one 
with  the  other? 

(d)  Could  the  signs  be  made  to  point  to  a  con- 
trary conclusion? 

5.  Syllogisms 

(a)  Have  any  steps  been  omitted  in  the  syllo- 
gisms? (Such  as  in  a  syllogism  in 
(erUkymeme,)  If  so,  test  any  such  by  filling 
out  the  syllogisms. 

(b)  Have  you  been  guilty  of  stating  a  conclusion 
that  really  does  not  follow?   (A  non  sequUur.) 

(c)  Can  your  syllogism  be  reduced  to  an  ab- 
surdity?   (Reductio  ad  absurdum,) 


1.  Show  why  an  unsupported  assertion  is  not  an  argu- 

2.  Illustrate  how  an  irrelevant  fact  may  be  made  to 
seem  to  support  an  argiunent. 

3.  What  inferences  may  justly  be  made  from  the 

During  the  Boer  War  it  was  found  that  the  average  English- 
man did  not  measure  up  to  the  standards  of  recruiting  and  the 
average  soldier  in  the  field  manifested  a  low  plane  of  vitality  and 
endtirance.  Parliament,  alarmed  by  the  disastrous  consequences, 
instituted  an  investigation.  The  commission  appointed  brought 
in  a  finding  that  alcoholic  poisoning  was  the  great  cause  of  the 
national  degeneracy.  The  investigations  of  the  commission  have 
been  supplemented  by  investigations  of  scientific  bodies  and 
individual  scientists,  all  arriving  at  the  same  conclusion.  As  a 
consequence,  the  British  Government  has  placarded  the  streets 


of  a  hundred  cities  with  billboards  setting  forth  the  destructive 
and  degenerating  nature  of  alcohol  and  appealing  to  the  people 
in  the  name  of  the  nation  to  desist  from  drinking  alcoholic 
beverages.  Under  efforts  directed  by  the  Government  the  British 
Army  is  fast  becoming  an  army  of  total  abstainers. 

The  Governments  of  continental  Europe  followed  the  lead  of 
the  British  Government.  The  French  Government  has  placarded 
Prance  with  appeals  to  the  people,  attributing  the  decline  of 
the  birth  rate  and  increase  in  the  death  rate  to  the  widespread 
use  of  alcoholic  beverages.  The  experience  of  the  German 
Government  has  been  the  same.  The  German  Emperor  has 
clearly  stated  that  leadership  in  war  and  in  peace  will  be  held  by 
the  nation  that  roots  out  alcohol.  He  has  undertaken  to  eliminate 
even  the  drinking  of  beer,  so  far  as  possible,  from  the  German 
Army  and  Navy. — ^Richmond  Pearson  Hobson,  Before  the  U,  S, 

4.  Since  the  burden  of  proof  lies  on  him  who  attacks  a 
position,  or  argues  for  a  change  in  affairs,  how  would  his 
opponent  be  likely  to  conduct  his  own  part  of  a  debate? 

5.  Define  (a)  syllogism;  (b)  rebuttal;  (c)  ''b^ging 
the  question;"  (d)  premise;  (e)  rejoinder;  (f)  sur- 
rejoinder; (g)  dilenmia;  (h)  induction;  (1)  deduction; 
(/)  a  priori;   (k)  a  posteriori;   (I)  inference. 

6.  Criticise  this  reasoning: 

Men  ought  not  to  smoke  tobacco,  because  to  do  so  is  contrary 
to  best  medical  opinion.  My  physician  has  expressly  condemned 
the  practise,  and  is  a  medical  authority  in  this  country. 

7.  Criticise  this  reasoning: 

Men  ought  not  to  swear  profanely,  because  it  is  wrong.  It 
is  wrong  for  the  reason  that  it  is  contrary  to  the  Moral  Law, 
and  it  is  contrary  to  the  Moral  Law  because  it  is  contrary  to  the 
Scriptures.    It  is  contrary  to  the  Scriptures  because  it  is  contrary 



to  the  will  of  God,  and  we  know  it  is  contrary  to  God's  will 
because  it  is  wrong. 

8.  Criticise  this  syllogism: 

Major  Premise:  All  men  who  have  no  cares  are  happy. 
Minor  Premise:  Slovenly  men  are  careless. 
Conclusion:  Therefore,  slovenly  men  are  happy. 

9.  Criticise    the    following    major,    or    foimdation, 


All  is  not  gold  that  glj^ters. 

All  cold  may  be  expelled  by  fire. 

10.  Criticise  the  following  fallacy  (non  sequiksr): 

Major  Premise:  All  strong  men  admire  strength. 

Minor  Premise:  This  man  is  not  strong. 

Conclusion:  Therefore  this  man  does  not  admire  strength. 

II.    Criticise  these  statements: 

Sleep  is  beneficial  on  account  of  its  soporific  qualities. 

Piske's  histories  are  authentic  because  they  contain  accurate 
accounts  of  American  history,  and  we  know  that  they  are  true 
accounts  for  otherwise  they  would  not  be  contained  in  these  ' 
authentic  works. 

1 2.  What  do  you  understand  from  the  terms  ''reasoning 
from  effect  to  cause"  and  "from  cause  to  eflfect?"  Give 

13.  What  principle  did  Richmond  Pearson  Hobson 
employ  in  the  following? 

What  is  the  police  power  of  the  States?  The  police  power  of 
the  Federal  Government  or  the  State — any  sovereign  State — ^has 


been  defined.   Take  the  definition  given  by  Blackstone,  which  is: 

The  due  regulation  and  domestic  order  of  the  King- 
dom, whereby  the  inhabitants  of  a  State,  like  members 
of  a  well-govemed  family,  are  bound  to  conform  their 
general  behavior  to  the  rules  of  propriety,  of  neighbor- 
hood and  good  manners,  and  to  be  decent,  industrious, 
and  inoffensive  in  their  respective  stations. 

Would  this  amendment  interfere  with  any  State  carrying  on 
the  promotion  of  its  domestic  order? 

Or  you  can  take  the  definition  in  another  form,  in  which  it  is 
given  by  Mr.  Tiedeman,  when  he  says: 

The  object  of  government  is  to  impose  that  degree  of 
restraint  upon  human  actions  which  is  necessary  to  a 
uniform,  reasonable  enjoyment  of  private  rights.  The 
power  of  the  government  to  impose  this  restraint  is 
called  the  police  power. 

Judge  Cooley  says  of  the  liquor  traffic: 


The  business  of  manufacturing  and  selling  liquor  is  one 
that  affects  the  public  interests  in  many  ways  and  leads 
to  many  disorders.  It  has  a  tendency  to  increase 
pauperism  and  crime.  It  renders  a  large  force  of  peace 
officers  essential,  and  it  adds  to  the  expense  of  the 
courts  and  of  nearly  all  branches  of  civil  administration. 

Justice  Bradley,  of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  says: 

Licenses  may  be  properly  required  in  the  pursuit  of 
many  professions  and  avocations,  which  require  peculiar 
skill  and  training  or  supervision  for  the  public  welfare. 
The  profession  or  avocation  is  open  to  all  alike  who  will 
prepare  themselves  with  the  requisite  qualifications  or 
give  the  requisite  security  for  preserving  public  order. 
This  is  in  harmony  with  the  general  proposition  that  the 
ordinary  pursuits  of  life,  forming  the  greater  per  cent  of 
the  industrial  pursuits,  are  and  ought  to  be  free  and 
open  to  all,  subject  only  to  such  general  r^ulations, 
applying  equally  to  all,  as  the  general  good  may  demand. 

All  such  regulations  are  entirely  competent  for  the 


l^slature  to  make  and  are  in  no  sense  an  abridgment 
of  the  equal  rights  of  citizens.  But  a  license  to  do  that 
which  is  odious  and  against  common  right  is  necessarily 
an  outrage  upon  the  equal  rights  of  citizens. 

14.  What  method  did  Jesus  employ  in  the  following: 

Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth;  but  if  the  salt  have  lost  his 
savour,  wherewith  shall  it  be  salted?  it  is  thenceforth  good  for 
nothing  but  to  be  cast  out,  and  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men. 

Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air;  for  they  sow  not,  neither  do  they 
reap  nor  gather  into  bams;  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth 
them.    Are  ye  not  much  better  than  they? 

And  why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment?  Consider  the  lilies 
of  the  field;  how  they  grow;  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin; 
And  yet  I  say  unto  you,  that  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was 
not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.  Wherefore,  if  God  so  clothe  the 
grass  of  the  field,  which  today  is,  and  tomorrow  is  cast  into  the 
oven,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe  yo^,  O  ye  of  little  faith? 

Or  what  man  is  there  of  you,  whom  if  his  son  ask  bread,  will 
he  give  him  a  stone?  Or  if  he  ask  a  fish,  will  he  give  him  a 
serpent?  If  ye  then,  being  evU,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts 
unto  your  children,  how  much  more  shall  your  Father  which  is 
in  heaven  give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  him? 

15.  Make  five  original  syllogisms^  on  the  following 

Major  Prbmisb:  He  who  administers  arsenic  gives  poison. 

1  For  those  who  would  make  a  further  atudy  of  the  0ylloKum  the  following 
mlee  are  giyen:  1.  In  a  syllogiam  there  should  be  only  three  terms.  2.  Of 
then  three  only  one  can  be  the  middle  term.  3.  One  premise  must  be  affirma- 
tire.  4.  The  oonclusion  must  be  negative  if  either  premise  is  negative.  6.  To 
prove  a  negative,  one  of  the  premises  must  be  negative. 

Summary  of  Btffulating  PrincijiUt:  1.  Terms  which  agree  with  the  same 
thing  agree  with  each  other;  and  when  only  one  of  two  tenns  agrees  with  a 
third  term,  the  two  terms  disagree  with  each  other.  2.  "Whatever  is  affirmed 
of  afolass  may  be  affirmed  of  all  the  members  of  that  dass/'  and  "Whatever 
iCdenled  of  a  olass  may  be  denied  of  all  the  members  of  that  olass/' 


Minor  Premise:  The  prisoner  administered  arsenic  to  the 

Conclusion:  Therefore  the  prisoner  is  a  poisoner. 

Major  Premise:  AU  dogs  are  quadrupeds. 
Minor  Premise:  This  animal  is  a  biped. 
Conclusion:  Therefore  this  animal  is  not  a  dog. 

i6.  Prepare  either  the  positive  or  the  negative  side  of 
the  following  question  for  debate:  The  recall  of  judges 
should  be  adopted  as  a  noHanal  principle, 

17.  Is  this  question  debatable?  Benedict  Arnold  was 
a  gentleman.    Give  reasons  for  your  answer. 

18.  Criticise  any  street  or  dinner-table  argument  you 
have  heard  recently. 

19.  Test  the  reasoning  of  any  of  the  speeches  given  in 
this  volume. 

20.  Make  a  short  speech  arguing  in  favor  of  instruc- 
tion in  public  speaking  in  the  public  evening  schools. 

21.  (a)  Clip  a  newspaper  editorial  in  which  the  reason- 
ing is  weak,    (b)  Criticise  it.    (c)  Correct  it. 

22.  Make  a  list  of  three  subjects  for  debate,  selected 
from  the  monthly  magazines. 

23.  Do  the  same  from  the  newspapers. 

24.  Choosing  your  own  question  and  side,  prepare  a 
brief  suitable  for  a  ten-minute  debating  argument.  The 
following  modeb  of  briefs  may  help  you: 


Resolved:  That  armed  intervention  is  not  jusUfiable  on 
the  part  of  any  nation  to  collect^  in  behalf  of  private  indi- 


viduals,  financial  claims  against  any  American  nation} 

BsiEF  OF  Affhucative  Aegument 

First  speaker — Chafee 

Armed  intervention  for  collection  of  private  claims  from 

any  American  nation  is  not  justifiable,  for 

1.  Itis  wrong  in  principle ,  because 

(a)  It  violates  the  fundamental  principles  of 
international  law  for  a  very  slight  cause 

(A)  It  is  contrary  to  the  proper  function  of  the 
State,  and 

(c)  It  is  contrary  to  justice,  since  claims  are 

Second  speaker — ^Hurley 

2.  It  is  disastfom  in  its  results  ^\iecaAJi&^ 

{a)  It  incurs  danger  of  grave  international  com- 

{b)  It  tends  to  increase  the  burden  of  debt  in  the 
South  American  republics 

(c)  It  encourages  a  waste  of  the  world's  capital, 

(J)  It  disturbs  peace  and  stability  in  South 

Third  speaker — Bruce 

3.  It  is  unnecessary  to  collect  in  this  way,  because 

(a)  Peaceful  methods  have  succeeded 
{h)  If  these  should  fail,  claims  should  be  settled 
by  The  Hague  Tribunal 

>  All  the  apeakers  were  from  Brown  University.  The  affinnati\re  briefs  were 
used  in  debate  with  the  Dartmouth  GoUege  team,  and  the  negative  briefs  were 
vaed  in  debate  with  the  Williams  College  team.  From  Th€  SpMhett  by  per- 


(c)  The  fault  has  always  been  with  European 
States  when  force  has  been  used,  and 

(d)  In  any  case,  force  should  not  be  used, 
for  it  counteracts  the  movement  towards 

Brief  of  Negative  Argument 

First  speaker — Branch 

Armed  intervention  for  the  collection  of  private  financial 
claims  against  some  American  States  is  justifiable,  for 

1.  When  other  means  of  collection  have  failed,  armed 

intervention   against   any   nation  is   essentiatty 
proper,  because 

(a)  Justice  should  alwa3rs  be  secured 

(b)  Non-enforcement  of  payment  puts  a  pre- 
mium on  dishonesty 

(c)  Intervention  for  this  purpose  is  sanctioned 
by  the  best  international  authority 

(d)  Danger  of  undue  collection  is  slight  and  can 
be  avoided  entirely  by  submission  of  daims 
to  The  Hague  Tribunal  before  intervening 

Second  speaker — ^Stone 

2.  Armed  intervention  is  necessary  to  secure  justice  in 

tropical  America,  for 

(a)  The  governments  of  this  section  constantly 
repudiate  just  debts 

(b)  They  insist  that  the  final  decision  about 


daims  shall  rest  with  their  own  corrupt 
(c)  They  refuse  to  arbitrate  sometimes. 

Third  speaker — ^Demiett 

3.  Armed   intervention   is   beneficial  in  its   results^ 
(a)  It  inspires  responsibility 
{b)  In  administering  custom  houses  it  removes 

temptation  to  revolutions 
(c)  It  gives  confidence  to  desirable  capitaL 
Among  others,  the  following  books  were  used  in  the 
preparation  of  the  argmnents: 

N.  "The  Monroe  Doctrine,"  by  T.  B.  Edgington.   Chap- 
ters 22-28. 
'^ Digest  of  International  Law/'  by  J.  B.  Moore. 
Report  of  Penfield  of  proceedings  before  Hague  Tribu- 
nal in  1903. 
"Statesman's  Year  Book"  (for  statistics). 
A.  Minister  Drago's  appeal  to  the  United  States,  in  For- 
dgn  Relations  of  United  States,  1903. 
President  Roosevelt's  Message,  1905,  pp.  33-37* 
And  articles  in  the  following  magazines  (among  many 

"Journal  of  Political  Economy,"  December,  1906. 
"Atlantic  Monthly,"  October,  1906. 
"North  American  Review,"  Vol.  183,  p.  602. 
All  of  these  contain  material  valuable  for  both  sides, 
ezcq>t  those  marked  "N"  and  "A,"  which  are  useful  only 
for  the  n^ative  and  affirmative,  respectivdy. 


Note: — Practise  in  debating  is  most  helpful  to  the 
public  speaker,  but  if  possible  each  debate  should  be 
under  the  supervision  of  some  person  whose  word  will  be 
respected,  so  that  the  debaters  might  show  r^ard  for 
courtesy,  accuracy,  effective  reasoning,  and  the  necessity 
for  careful  preparation.  The  Appendix  contains  a  list 
of  questions  for  debate. 

25.  Are  the  following  points  well  considered? 

The  Inheritance  Tax  is  Not  a  Good  Social  Reform 


A.  Does  not  strike  at  the  root  of  the  evil 

1.  For^nes  not  a  menace  in  themselves 

A  fortune  of  $500,000  may  be  a  greater  social 
evil  than  one  of  $500,000,000 

2.  Danger  of  wealth  depends  on  Us  wrong  accumulation 

and  use 

3.  Inheritance  tax  will  not  prevent  rebates,  monopoly, 

discrimination,  bribery,  etc. 

4.  Laws  aimed  at  unjust  accumulation  and  use  of 

wealth  furnish  the  true  remedy. 

B.  It  would  be  evaded 

1.  Low  rates  are  evaded 

2.  Rale  must  be  high  to  result  in  distribution  of  greai 


26.  Class  exercises:  Mock  Trial  for  (a)  some  serious 
political  offense;  (b)  a  burlesque  offense. 



She  hath  prosperous  art 
When  she  will  play  with  reason  and  discourse, 
And  well  she  can  persuade. 

— Shakespeare,  Measure  for  Measure, 

Him  we  call  an  artist  who  shall  play  on  an  assembly  of  men 
as  a  master  on  the  keys  of  a  piano, — ^who  seeing  the  people 
furious,  shall  soften  and  compose  them,  shall  draw  them,  when 
he  will,  to  laughter  and  to  tears.  Bring  him  to  his  audience,  and, 
be  they  who  they  may, — coarse  or  refined,  pleased  or  displeased, 
sulky  or  savage,  with  their  opinions  in  the  keeping  of  a  confessor 
or  with  their  opinions  in  their  bank  safes, — ^he  will  have  them 
pleased  and  humored  as  he  chooses;  and  they  shall  carry  and 
execute  what  he  bids  them. 

— Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Essay  on  Eloquence. 

More  good  and  more  ill  have  been  effected  by  persua- 
sion than  by  any  other  form  of  speech.  It  is  an  aUempi 
to  influence  by  means  of  appeal  to  some  particular  interest 
held  important  by  the  hearer.  Its  motive  may  be  high  or 
low  fair  or  unfair,  honest  or  dishonest,  calm  or  passionate, 
and  hence  its  scope  is  imparalleled  in  public  speaking. 

This  "instilment  of  conviction,"  to  use  Matthew 
Arnold's  expression,  is  naturally  a  complex  process  in  that 
it  usually  includes  argumentation  and  often  employs 
suggestion,  as  the  next  chapter  will  illustrate.  In  fact, 
there  is  little  public  speaking  worthy  of  the  name  that  is 
not  in  some  part  persuasive,  for  men  rarely  speak  solely 


to  alter  men's  opinions — ^the  ulterior  purpose  is  almost 
alwa3rs  action. 

The  nature  of  persuasion  is  not  solely  intellectual,  but 
is  largely  emotional.  It  uses  every  principle  of  public 
speaking,  and  every  ''form  of  discourse/'  to  use  a  rhetori- 
cian's expression,  but  argmnent  supplemented  by  special 
appeal  is  its  peculiar  quality.  This  we  may  best  see  by 

The  Methods  of  Persuasion 

High-minded  speakers  often  seek  to  move  their  hearers 
to  action  by  an  appeal  to  their  highest  motives,  such  as  love 
of  liberty.  Senator  Hoar,  in  pleading  for  action  on  the 
Philippine  question,  used  this  method: 

What  has  been  the  practical  statesmanship  which  comes  from 
your  ideals  and  your  sentimentalities?  You  have  wasted  neariy 
six  hundred  millions  of  treasure.  You  have  sacrificed  nearly  ten 
thousand  American  lives — the  flower  of  our  youth.  You  have 
devastated  provinces.  You  have  slain  uncounted  thousands  of 
the  people  you  desire  to  benefit.  You  have  established  recon- 
centration  camps.  Your  generals  are  coming  home  from  their 
harvest  bringing  sheaves  with  them,  in  the  shape  of  other  thou- 
sands of  sick  and  wounded  and  insane  to  drag  out  miserable  lives, 
wrecked  in  body  and  mind.  You  make  the  American  flag  in  the 
eyes  of  a  numerous  people  the  emblem  of  sacrilege  in  Christian 
churches,  and  of  the  burning  of  human  dwellings,  and  of  the 
horror  of  the  water  torture.  Your  practical  statesmanship  which 
disdains  to  take  George  Washington  and  Abraham  Lincoln  or 
the  soldiers  of  the  Revolution  or  of  the  Civil  War  as  models,  has 
looked  in  some  cases  to  Spain  for  your  example.  I  believe — ^nay, 
I  know — that  in  general  our  officers  and  soldiers  are  humane* 
But  in  some  cases  they  have  carried  on  your  warfare  with  a  mix- 
ture of  American  ingenuity  and  Castilian  cruelty. 

Your  practical  statesmanship  has  succeeded  in  converting  a 


people  who  three  years  ago  were  ready  to  kiss  the  hem  of  the 
garment  of  the  American  and  to  welcome  him  as  a  liberator,  who 
thronged  after  your  men,  when  they  landed  on  those  islands, 
with  benediction  and  gratitude,  into  sullen  and  irreconciliable 
enemies,  possessed  of  a  hatred  which  centuries  cannot  eradicate. 

Mr.  President,  this  is  the  eternal  law  of  human  nature.  You 
may  struggle  against  it,  you  may  try  to  escape  it,  you  may  per- 
suade yourself  that  your  intentions  are  benevolent,  that  your 
yoke  will  be  easy  and  your  burden  will  be  light,  but  it  will  assert 
itself  again.  Government  without  the  consent  of  the  governed — 
authority  which  heaven  never  gave — can  only  be  supported  by 
means  which  heaven  never  can  sanction. 

The  American  people  have  got  this  one  question  to  answer. 
They  may  answer  it  now;  they  can  take  ten  years,  or  twenty 
years,  or  a  generation,  or  a  century  to  think  of  it.  But  it  will  not 
down.  They  must  answer  it  in  the  end:  Can  you  lawfully  buy 
with  money,  or  get  by  brute  force  of  arms,  the  right  to  hold  in 
subjugation  an  unwilling  people,  and  to  impose  on  them  such 
constitution  as  you,  and  not  they,  think  best  for  them? 

Senator  Hoar  then  went  on  to  make  another  sort  of 
appeal — ^the  appeal  to  fact  and  experience: 

We  have  answered  this  question  a  good  many  times  in  the 
past.  The  fathers  answered  it  in  1776,  and  founded  the  Republic 
upon  their  answer,  which  has  been  the  comer-stone.  John  Quincy 
Adams  and  James  Monroe  answered  it  again  in  the  Monroe 
Doctrine,  which  John  Quincy  Adams  declared  was  only  the  doc- 
trine of  the  consent  of  the  governed.  The  Republican  party 
answered  it  when  it  took  possession  of  the  force  of  government 
at  the  beginning  of  the  most  brilliant  period  in  all  legislative 
history.  Abraham  Lincoln  answered  it  when,  on  that  fatal 
journey  to  Washington  in  1861,  he  annotmced  that  as  the  doctrine 
of  his  political  creed,  and  declared,  with  prophetic  vision,  that 
he  was  ready  to  be  assassinated  for  it  if  need  be.  You  answered 
it  again  yourselves  when  you  said  that  Cuba,  who  had  no  more 
title  than  the  people  of  the  Philippine  Islands  had  to  their  inde- 
pendence, of  right  ought  to  be  free  and  independent. 

— George  P.  Hoar. 


Appeal  to  the  things  that  man  holds  dear  is  another 
potent  form  of  persuasion. 

Joseph  Story,  in  his  great  Salem  speech  (1828)  used  this 
method  most  dramatically: 

I  call  upon  you,  fathers,  by  the  shades  of  your  ancestors — by 
the  dear  ashes  which  repose  in  this  precious  soil — ^by  all  you  are, 
and  all  you  hope  to  be — resist  every  object  of  disunion,  resist 
every  encroachment  upon  your  liberties,  resist  every  attempt  to 
fetter  your  consciences,  or  smother  your  public  schools,  or 
extinguish  your  system  of  public  instruction. 

I  call  upon  you,  mothers,  by  that  which  never  fails  in  woman, 
the  love  of  your  offspring;  teach  them,  as  they  dimb  your  knees, 
or  lean  on  your  bosoms,  the  blessings  of  liberty.  Swear  them  at 
the  altar,  as  with  their  baptismal  vows,  to  be  true  to  their  country, 
and  never  to  forget  or  forsake  her. 

I  call  upon  you,  young  men,  to  remember  whose  sons  you  are; 
whose  inheritance  you  possess.  Life  can  never  be  too  short, 
which  brings  nothing  but  disgrace  and  oppression.  Death  never 
comes  too  soon,  if  necessary  in  defence  of  the  liberties  of  your 

I  call  upon  you,  old  men,  for  your  cotmsels,  and  your  prayers, 
and  your  benedictions.  May  not  your  gray  hairs  go  down  in 
sorrow  to  the  grave,  with  the  recollection  that  you  have  lived  in 
vain.  May  not  your  last  sun  sink  in  the  west  upon  a  nation  of 

No;  I  read  in  the  destiny  of  my  country  far  better  hopes,  far 
brighter  visions.  We,  who  are  now  assembled  here,  must  soon 
be  gathered  to  the  congregation  of  other  da3rs.  The  time  of  our 
departure  is  at  hand,  to  make  way  for  our  children  upon  the 
theatre  of  life.  May  God  speed  them  and  theirs.  May  he  who, 
at  the  distance  of  another  century,  shaU  stand  here  to  celebrate 
this  day,  still  look  round  upon  a  free,  happy,  and  virtuous  people. 
May  he  have  reason  to  exult  as  we  do.  May  he,  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  of  truth  as  well  as  of  poetry,  exclaim,  that  here  is 
still  his  country. — ^Joseph  Story. 

The  appeal  to  prejudice  is  eflfective — though  not  often, 


if  ever,  justifiable;  yet  so  long  as  special  pleading  endures 
this  sort  of  persuasion  will  be  resorted  to.  Rudyard 
Elipling  uses  this  method — as  have  many  others  on  both 
sides — ^in  discussing  the  great  European  war.  Mingled 
with  the  appeal  to  prejudice,  Mr.  Kipling  uses  the  appeal 
to  self-interest;  though  not  the  highest,  it  is  a  powerful 
motive  in  all  our  lives.  Notice  how  at  the  last  the 
pleader  sweeps  on  to  the  highest  ground  he  can  take. 
This  is  a  notable  example  of  progressive  appeal,  beginning 
with  a  low  motive  and  ending  with  a  high  one  in  such  a 
way  as  to  carry  all  the  force  of  prejudice  yet  gain  all  the 
value  of  patriotic  fervor. 

Through  no  fault  nor  wish  of  ours  we  are  at  war  with  Germany, 
the  power  which  owes  its  existence  to  three  well-thought-out 
wars;  the  power  which,  for  the  last  twenty  years,  has  devoted 
itself  to  organizing  and  preparing  for  this  war;  the  power  which 
is  now  fighting  to  conquer  the  civilized  world. 

For  the  last  two  generations  the  Germans  in  their  books, 
lectures,  speeches  and  schools  have  been  carefully  taught  that 
nothing  less  than  this  world-conquest  was  the  object  of  their 
preparations  and  their  sacrifices.  They  have  prepared  carefully 
and  sacrificed  greatly. 

We  must  have  men  and  men  and  men,  if  we,  with  our  allies, 
are  to  check  the  onrush  of  organized  barbarism. 

Have  no  illusions.  We  are  dealing  with  a  strong  and  mag- 
nificently equipped  enemy,  whose  avowed  aim  is  our  complete 
destruction.  The  violation  of  Belgium,  the  attack  on  France 
and  the  defense  against  Russia,  are  only  steps  by  the  way.  The 
German's  real  objective,  as  she  always  has  told  us,  is  England, 
and  England's  wealth,  trade  and  worldwide  possessions. 

If  you  assume,  for  an  instant,  that  the  attack  will  be  successful, 
Bngland  will  not  be  reduced,  as  some  people  say,  to  the  rank  of 
a  second  rate  power,  but  we  shall  cease  to  exist  as  a  nation.  We 
shall  become  an  outlying  province  of  Germany,  to  be  adminis- 


tered  with  that  severity  German  safety  and  interest  require. 

We  are  against  such  a  fate.  We  enter  into  a  new  life  in  whidi 
all  the  facts  of  war  that  we  had  put  behind  or  forgotten  for  the 
last  hundred  years,  have  returned  to  the  front  and  test  us  as 
they  tested  our  fathers.  It  will  be  a  long  and  a  hard  road,  beset 
with  difficulties  and  discouragements,  but  we  tread  it  together 
and  we  will  tread  it  together  to  the  end. 

Our  petty  social  divisions  and  barriers  have  been  swept  away 
at  the  outset  of  our  mighty  struggle.  All  the  interests  of  our  life 
of  six  weeks  ago  are  dead.  We  have  but  one  interest  now,  and 
that  touches  the  naked  heart  of  every  man  in  this  island  and  in 
the  empire. 

If  we  are  to  win  the  right  for  ourselves  and  for  freedom  to 
exist  on  earth,  every  man  must  offer  himself  for  that  service  and 
that  sacrifice. 

From  these  examples  it  will  be  seen  that  the  particular 
way  in  which  the  speakers  appealed  to  their  hearers  was 
hy  coming  dose  home  to  their  interests^  and  by  Ihemsdves 
showing  emotion — two  very  important  principles  which 
you  must  keep  constantly  in  mind. 

To  accomplish  the  former  requires  a  deep  knowledge  of 
human  motive  in  general  and  an  understanding  of  the 
particular  audience  addressed.  What  are  the  motives 
that  arouse  men  to  action?  Think  of  them  earnestly,  set 
them  down  on  the  tablets  of  your  mind,  study  how  to 
appeal  to  them  worthily.  Then,  what  motives  would  be 
likely  to  appeal  to  your  hearers?  What  are  their  ideals  and 
interests  in  life?  A  mistake  in  your  estimate  may  cost 
you  your  case.  To  appeal  to  pride  in  appearance  would 
make  one  set  of  men  merely  laugh — ^to  try  to  arouse 
sympathy  for  the  Jews  in  Palestine  would  be  wasted  effort 
among  others.    Study  your  audience,  feel  your  way,  and 


when  you  have  once  raised  a  spark,  fan  it  into  a  flame  by 
every  honest  resource  you  possess. 

The  larger  your  audience  the  more  sure  you  are  to  find 
a  universal  basis  of  appeal.  A  small  audience  of  bachelor's 
will  not  grow  excited  over  the  importance  of  furniture 
insurance;  most  men  can  be  roused  to  the  defense  of  the 
freedom  of  the  press. 

Patent  medicine  advertisement  usually  begins  by  talking 
about  your  pains — they  begin  on  your  interests.  If  they 
fiorst  discussed  the  size  and  rating  of  their  establishment, 
or  the  eflScacy  of  their  remedy,  you  would  never  read  the 
"ad."  If  they  can  make  you  think  you  have  nervous 
troubles  you  will  even  plead  for  a  remedy — they  will  not 
have  to  try  to  sell  it. 

The  patent  medicine  men  are  pleading — ^asking  you  to 
invest  your  money  in  their  commodity — ^yet  they  do  not 
appear  to  be  doing  so.  They  get  over  on  your  side  of  the 
fence  and  arouse  a  desire  for  their  nostrums  by  appealing 
to  your  own  interests. 

Recently  a  book-salesman  entered  an  attorney's  office 
in  New  York  and  inquired :  "Do  you  want  to  buy  a  book?" 
Had  the  lawyer  wanted  a  book  he  would  probably  have 
bought  one  without  waiting  for  a  book-salesman  to  call. 
The  solicitor  made  the  same  mistake  as  the  representative 
who  made  his  approach  with:  "I  want  to  sell  you  a  sewing 
machine."  They  both  talked  only  in  terms  of  their  own 

The  successful  pleader  must  convert  his  arguments  into 
terms  of  his  hearers'  advantage.  Mankind  are  still  selfish. 
They  are  interested  in  what  will  serve  them.    Expunge 


from  your  address  your  own  personal  concern  and  present 
your  appeal  in  terms  of  the  general  good,  and  to  do  this 
you  need  not  be  insincere,  for  you  had  better  not  plead 
any  cause  that  is  not  for  the  hearers'  good.  Notice  how 
Senator  Thurston  in  his  plea  for  intervention  in  Cuba  and 
Mr.  Bryan  in  his  "Cross  of  Gold"  speech  constituted 
themselves  the  apostles  of  humanity. 

Exhortation  is  a  highly  impassioned  form  of  appeal, 
frequently  used  by  the  pulpit  in  efforts  to  arouse  men  to  a 
sense  of  duty  and  induce  them  to  decide  their  personal 
courses,  and  by  counsel  in  seeking  to  influence  a  jury.  The 
great  preachers,  like  the  great  jury-lawyers,  have  always 
been  masters  of  persuasion. 

Notice  the  difference  among  these  four  exhortations, 
and  analyze  the  motives  appealed  to: 

Revenge!  About!  Seek!  Burn!  Fire!  Kill!  Slay!  Let  not 
a  traitor  live! — Shakespeare,  Julius  Casar. 

Strike — ^till  the  last  armed  foe  expires, 
Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fires, 
Strike — ^for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires, 

God — and  your  native  land ! 

— Pitz-Greenb  Halleck,  Marco  Boasaris. 

Believe,  gentlemen,  if  it  were  not  for  those  children,  he  would 
not  come  here  to-day  to  seek  such  remuneration;  if  it  were  not 
that,  by  your  verdict,  you  may  prevent  those  little  innocent 
defrauded  wretches  from  becoming  wandering  beggars,  as  well 
as  orphans  on  the  face  of  this  earth.  Oh,  I  know  I  need  not  ask 
this  verdict  from  your  mercy;  I  need  not  extort  it  from  your 
compassion;  I  will  receive  it  from  your  justice.  I  do  conjure 
you,  not  as  fathers,  but  as  husbands: — not  as  husbands,  but  as 
citizens: — ^not  as  citizens,  but  as  men: — ^not  as  men,  but  as 


Christians: — by  all  your  obligations,  public,  private,  moral,  and 
religious;  by  the  hearth  profaned;  by  the  home  desolated;  by 
the  canons  of  the  living  God  foully  spumed; — save,  oh!  save 
your  firesides  from  the  contagion,  your  country  from  the  crime, 
and  perhaps  thousands,  yet  unborn,  from  the  shame,  and  sin, 
and  sorrow  of  this  example! 

— Charles  Phillips,  Appeal  to  the  jury  in  behalf  of  Guthrie. 

So  I  appeal  from  the  men  in  silken  hose  who  danced  to  music 
made  by  slaves  and  called  it  freedom,  from  the  men  in  bell-crown 
hats  who  led  Hester  Prynne  to  her  shame  and  caUed  it  religion, 
to  that  Americanism  which  reaches  forth  its  arms  to  smite  wrong 
with  reason  and  truth,  secure  in  the  power  of  both.  I  appeal 
from  the  patriarchs  of  New  England  to  the  poets  of  New  Eng- 
land; from  Endicott  to  Lowell;  from  Winthrop  to  Longfellow; 
from  Norton  to  Holmes;  and  I  appeal  in  the  name  and  by  the 
rights  of  that  common  citizenship — of  that  common  origin,  back 
of  both  the  Puritan  and  the  Cavalier,  to  which  all  of  us  owe  our 
being.  Let  the  dead  past,  consecrated  by  the  blood  of  its  martyrs, 
not  by  its  savage  hatreds,  darkened  alike  by  kingcraft  and  priest- 
craft— let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead.  Let  the  present  and  the 
future  ring  with  the  song  of  the  singers.  Blessed  be  the  lessons 
they  teach,  the  laws  they  make.  Blessed  be  the  eye  to  see,  the 
light  to  reveal.  Blessed  be  tolerance,  sitting  ever  on  the  right 
hand  of  God  to  guide  the  way  with  loving  word,  as  blessed  be  all 
that  brings  us  nearer  the  goal  of  true  religion,  true  republicanism, 
and  true  patriotism,  distrust  of  watchwords  and  labels,  shams 
and  heroes,  belief  in  our  country  and  ourselves.  It  was  not  Cotton 
Mather,  but  John  Greenleaf  Whittier,  who  cried: 

Dear  God  and  Father  of  us  all, 
Forgive  our  faith  in  cruel  lies, 
Forgive  the  blindness  that  denies. 

Cast  down  our  idols — overturn 
Our  Bloody  altars — make  us  see 
Thyself  in  Thy  humanity ! 

— ^Henry  Watterson,  Puritan  and  Caoalier, 


Goethe,  on  being  reproached  for  not  having  written  war 
songs  against  the  French,  replied,  "In  my  poetry  I  have 
never  shammed.  How  could  I  have  written  songs  of  hate 
without  hatred?  "  Neither  is  it  possible  to  plead  with  full 
efiSidency  for  a  cause  for  which  you  do  not  feel  deeply. 
Feeling  is  contagious  as  belief  b  contagious.  The  speaker 
who  pleads  with  real  feeling  for  his  own  convictions  will 
instill  his  feelings  into  his  listeners.  Sincerity,  force, 
enthusiasm,  and  above  all,  feeling — these  are  the  qualities 
that  move  multitudes  and  make  appeals  irresistible.  They 
are  of  far  greater  importance  than  technical  principles  of 
delivery,  grace  of  gesture,  or  polished  enunciation — ^im- 
portant as  all  these  elements  must  doubtless  be  considered. 
Base  your  appeal  on  reason,  but  do  not  end  in  the  base- 
ment— ^let  the  building  rise,  full  of  deep  emotion  and  noble 


I.  (a)  What  elements  of  appeal  do  you  find  in  the  fol- 
lowing? (b)  Is  it  too  florid?  (c)  Is  this  style  equally 
powerful  today?  (d)  Are  the  sentences  too  long  and 
involved  for  clearness  and  force? 

Oh,  gentlemen,  am  I  this  day  only  the  counsel  of  my  client? 
No,  no;  I  am  the  advocate  of  htmmnity — of  yourselves — ^your 
homes — ^your  wives — ^your  families — your  little  children.  I  am 
glad  that  this  case  exhibits  such  atrocity;  unmarked  as  it  is 
by  any  mitigatory  feature,  it  may  stop  the  frightfid  advance  of 
this  calamity;  it  will  be  met  now,  and  marked  with  vengeance. 
If  it  be  not,  farewell  to  the  virtues  of  your  country;  farewell  to 
all  confidence  between  man  and  man;  farewell  to  that  unsuspi- 
cious and  reciprocal  tenderness,  without  which  marriage  is  but 


a  consecrated  curse.  If  oaths  are  to  be  violated,  laws  disr^arded, 
friendship  betrayed,  humanity  trampled,  national  and  individual 
honor  stained,  and  if  a  jury  of  fathers  and  of  husbands  will 
give  such  miscreancy  a  passport  to  their  homes,  and  wives,  and 
daughters, — farewell  to  all  that  yet  remains  of  Ireland!  But  I 
will  not  cast  such  a  doubt  upon  the  character  of  my  country. 
Against  the  sneer  of  the  foe,  and  the  skepticism  of  the  foreigner, 
I  will  still  point  to  the  domestic  virtues,  that  no  perfidy  could 
barter,  and  no  bribery  can  purchase,  that  with  a  Roman  usage, 
at  once  embelHsh  and  consecrate  households,  giving  to  the 
society  of  the  hearth  all  the  purity  of  the  altar;  that  lingering 
alike  in  the  palace  and  the  cottage,  are  still  to  be  found  scattered 
over  this  land — ^the  relic  of  what  she  was — ^the  source  perhaps 
of  what  she  may  be — ^the  lone,  the  stately,  and  magnificent 
memorials,  that  rearing  their  majesty  amid  surrounding  ruins, 
serve  at  once  as  the  landmarks  of  the  departed  glory,  and  the 
models  by  which  the  future  may  be  erected. 

Preserve  those  virtues  with  a  vestal  fidelity;  mark  this  day, 
by  your  verdict,  your  horror  of  their  profanation;  and  believe 
me,  when  the  hand  which  records  that  verdict  shall  be  dust,  and 
the  tongue  that  asks  it,  traceless  in  the  grave,  many  a  happy 
home  will  bless  its  consequences,  and  many  a  mother  teach  her 
Hftle  child  to  hate  the  impious  treason  of  adultery. 

— Cbablbs  Phillips. 

3.  Analyze  and  criticise  the  forms  of  appeal  used  in 
the  selections  from  Hoar,  Story,  and  Kipling. 

3.  What  is  the  type  of  persuasion  used  by  Senator 
Thurston  (page  50)? 

4.  Cite  two  examples  each,  from  selections  in  this 
volume,  in  which  speakers  sought  to  be  persuasive  by 
securing  the  hearers'  (a)  sympathy  for  themselves;  (ft) 
S3mipathy  with  their  subjects;   {c)  self-pity. 

5.  Make  a  short  address  using  persuasion. 


6.  What  other  methods  of  persuasion  than  those  here 
mentioned  can  you  name? 

7.  Is  it  easier  to  persuade  men  to  change  their  course 
of  conduct  than  to  persuade  them  to  continue  in  a  given 
course?    Give  examples  to  support  your  belief. 

8.  In  how  far  are  we  justified  in  making  an  appeal  to 
self-interest  in  order  to  lead  men  to  adopt  a  given  course? 

9.  Does  the  merit  of  the  course  have  any  bearing  on 
the  merit  of  the  methods  used? 

10.  Illustrate  an  unworthy  method  of  using  persua- 

ti.  Deliver  a  short  speech  on  the  value  of  skill  in  per- 

12.  Does  effective  persuasion  always  produce  con- 

13.  Does  conviction  always  result  in  action? 

14.  Is  it  fair  for  coimsel  to  appeal  to  the  emotions  of 
a  jury  in  a  murder  trial? 

15.  Ought  the  judge  use  persuasion  in  making  his 

16.  Say  how  self-consciousness  may  hinder  the  power 
of  persuasion  in  a  speaker. 

17.  Is  emotion  without  words  ever  persuasive?  If  so, 

18.  Might  gestures  without  words  be  persuasive?  If 
so,  illustrate. 

19.  Has  posture  in  a  speaker  anything  to  do  with  per- 
suasion? Discuss. 

20.  Has  voice?    Discuss. 

21.  Has  manner?    Discuss. 


22.  What  effect  does  personal  magnetism  have  m  pro- 
ducing conviction? 

23.  Discuss  the  relation  of  persuasion  to  (a)  descrip- 
tion;  (b)  narration;   (c)  exposition;   (d)  pure  reason. 

24.  What  is  the  effect  of  over-persuasion? 

25.  Make  a  short  speech  on  the  effect  of  the  constant 
use  of  persuasion  on  the  sincerity  of  the  speaker  himself. 

26.  Show  by  example  how  a  general  statement  is  not 
as  persuasive  as  a  concrete  example  illustrating  the  point 
being  discussed. 

27.  Show  by  example  how  brevity  is  of  value  in  per- 

28.  Discuss  the  importance  of  avoiding  an  antagonistic 
attitude  in  persuasion. 

29.  What  is  the  most  persuasive  passage  you  have 
found  in  the  selections  of  this  volume.  On  what  do  you 
base  your  decision? 

30.  Cite  a  persuasive  passage  from  some  other  source. 
Read  or  recite  it  aloud. 

31.  Make  a  list  of  the  emotional  bases  of  appeal, 
grading  them  from  low  to  high,  according  to  your  estimate. 

32.  Would  circumstances  make  any  difference  in  such 
grading?    If  so,  give  examples. 

33.  Deliver  a  short,  passionate  appeal  to  a  jury,  plead- 
ing for  justice  to  a  poor  widow. 

34.  Deliver  a  short  appeal  to  men  to  give  up  some  evil 

35.  Criticise  the  structure  of  the  sentence  b^;inning 
with  the  last  line  of  page  296. 



Success  in  business,  in  the  last  analjrsis,  turns  upon  touching 
the  imagination  of  crowds.  The  reason  that  preachers  in  this 
present  generation  are  less  successful  in  getting  people  to  want 
goodness  than  business  men  are  in  getting  them  to  want  motor- 
cars, hats,  and  pianolas,  is  that  business  men  as  a  dass  are  more 
dose  and  desperate  students  of  human  nature,  and  have  boned 
down  harder  to  the  art  of  touching  the  imaginations  of  the 
crowds. — Gerald  Stanley  Lee,  Crowds, 

In  the  early  part  of  July,  1914,  a  collection  of  Fraich- 
men  in  Paris,  or  Germans  in  Berlin,  was  not  a  crowd  in  a 
psychological  sense.  Each  individual  had  his  own  special 
interests  and  needs,  and  there  was  no  powerful  common 
idea  to  unify  them.  A  group  then  rq)resented  only  a 
collection  of  individuals.  A  month  later,  any  coliection 
of  Frenchmen  or  Germans  formed  a  crowd:  Patriotism, 
hate,  a  conmion  fear,  a  pervasive  grief,  had  unified  the 

The  psychology  of  the  crowd  b  far  different  from  the 
psychology  of  the  personal  members  that  compose  it  The 
crowd  is  a  distinct  entity.  Individuals  restrain  and  subdue 
many  of  their  impulses  at  the  dictates  of  reason.  The 
crowd  never  reasons.  It  only  feels.  As  persons  there  is  a 
sense  of  responsibility  attached  to  our  actions  which 
checks  many  of  our  incitements,  but  the  sense  of  responsi- 
bility is  lost  in  the  crowd  because  of  its  numbers.  The 
crowd  is  exceedingly  suggestible  and  will  act  upon  the 


wildest  and  most  extreme  ideas.  The  crowd-mind  is 
primitive  and  will  cheer  plans  and  perform  actions  which 
its  members  would  utterly  repudiate. 

A  mob  is  only  a  highly-wrought  crowd.  Ruskin's 
description  is  fitting:  "  You  can  talk  a  mob  into  anything; 
its  feelings  may  be — ^usually  are — on  the  whole,  generous 
and  right,  but  it  has  no  foimdation  for  them,  no  hold  of 
them.  You  may  tease  or  tickle  it  into  anything  at  your 
pleasure.  It  thinks  by  infection,  for  the  most  part,  catch- 
ing an  opinion  like  a  cold,  and  there  is  nothing  so  little 
that  it  will  not  roar  itself  wild  about,  when  the  fit  is  on, 
nothing  so  great  but  it  will  forget  in  an  hour  when  the  fit 

History  will  show  us  how  the  crowd-mind  works.  The 
medieval  mind  was  not  given  to  reasoning;  the  medieval 
man  attached  great  weight  to  the  utterance  of  authority; 
his  religion  touched  chiefly  the  emotions.  These  condi- 
tions provided  a  rich  soil  for  the  propagation  of  the  crowd- 
mind  when,  in  the  eleventh  century,  flagellation,  a  volun- 
tary self-scourging,  was  preached  by  the  monks.  Sub- 
stituting flagellation  for  reciting  penetintial  psalms  was 
advocated  by  the  reformers.  A  scale  was  drawn  up, 
making  one  thousand  strokes  equivalent  to  ten  psalms, 
or  fifteen  thousand  to  the  entire  psalter.  This  craze 
spread  by  leaps — and  crowds.  Flagellant  fraternities 
sprang  up.  Priests  carrying  banners  led  through  the 
streets  great  processions  reciting  prayers  and  whipping 
their  bloody  bodies  with  leathern  thongs  fitted  with  four 
iron  points.    Pope  Clement  denounced  this  practise  and 

^  Sesame  and  LUim. 


several  of  the  leaders  of  these  processions  had  to  be 
burned  at  the  stake  before  the  frenzy  could  be  uprooted. 

All  western  and  central  Europe  was  turned  into  a  crowd 
by  the  preaching  of  the  crusaders,  and  millions  of  the 
followers  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  rushed  to  the  Holy  Land 
to  kill  the  heathen.  Even  the  children  started  on  a  cru- 
sade against  the  Saracens.  The  mob-spirit  was  so  strong 
that  home  affections  and  persuasion  could  not  pre- 
vail against  it  and  thousands  of  mere  babes  died  in 
their  attempts  to  reach  and  redeem  the  Sacred 

In  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  South 
Sea  Company  was  formed  in  England.  Britain  became  a 
speculative  crowd.  Stock  in  the  South  Sea  Company  rose 
from  1283^  points  in  January  to  550  in  May,  and  scored 
1,000  in  July.  Five  million  shares  were  sold  at  this 
premium.  Speculation  ran  riot.  Hundreds  of  companies 
were  organized.  One  was  formed  "  for  a  wheel  of  perpetual 
motion."  Another  never  troubled  to  give  any  reason  at 
all  for  taking  the  cash  of  its  subscribers — ^it  merely  an- 
noimced  that  it  was  organized  ''for  a  design  which  will 
hereafter  be  promulgated."  Owners  began  to  sell,  the 
mob  caught  the  suggestion,  a  panic  ensued,  the  South 
Sea  Company  stock  fell  800  points  in  a  few  days,  and 
more  than  a  billion  dollars  evaporated  in  this  era  of 
frenzied  speculation. 

The  burning  of  the  witches  at  Salem,  the  Klondike 
gold  craze,  and  the  forty-eight  people  who  were  killed  by 
mobs  in  the  United  States  in  1913,  are  examples  familiar 
to  us  in  America. 


The  Crowd  Must  Have  a  Leader 

The  leader  of  the  crowd  or  mob  is  its  determining  factor. 
He  becomes  self-hynoptized  with  the  idea  that  unifies 
its  members,  his  enthusiasm  is  contagious — and  so  is 
theirs.  The  crowd  acts  as  he  suggests.  The  great  mass  of 
people  do  not  have  any  very  sharply-drawn  conclusions 
on  any  subject  outside  of  their  own  little  spheres,  but 
when  they  become  a  crowd  they  are  perfectly  willing  to 
accept  ready-made,  hand-me-down  opinions.  They  wiU 
follow  a  leader  at  all  costs — ^in  labor  troubles  they  often 
follow  a  leader  in  preference  to  obeying  their  government, 
in  war  they  will  throw  self-preservation  to  the  bushes  and 
follow  a  leader  in  the  face  of  guns  that  fire  fourteen  times 
a  second.  The  mob  becomes  shorn  of  will-power  and 
blindly  obedient  to  its  dictator.  The  Russian  Government, 
recognizing  the  menace  of  the  crowd-mind  to  its  autocracy, 
formerly  prohibited  public  gatherings.  History  is  full  of 
similar  instances. 

How  the  Crowd  is  Created 

Today  the  crowd  is  as  real  a  factor  in  our  socialized  life 
as  are  magnates  and  monopolies.  It  is  too  complex  a 
problem  merely  to  damn  or  praise  it — ^it  must  be  reckoned 
with,  and  mastered.  The  present  problem  is  how  to  get 
the  most  and  the  best  out  of  the  crowd-spirit,  and  the 
public  speaker  finds  this  to  be  peculiarly  his  own  question. 
His  influence  is  multiplied  if  he  can  only  transmute  his 
audience  into  a  crowd.  His  affirmations  must  be  their 


This  can  be  accomplished  by  unifying  the  minds  and 
needs  of  the  audience  and  arousing  their  emotions.  Thdr 
Jeelings,  not  their  reason,  must  be  played  upon — U  is  *^up 
to"  him  to  do  this  nobly.  Argument  has  its  place  on  the 
platform,  but  even  its  potencies  must  subserve  the  speak- 
er's plan  of  attack  to  win  possession  of  his  audience. 

Reread  the  chapter  on  "Feeling  and  Enthusiasm."  It 
is  impossible  to  make  an  audience  a  crowd  without  appeal- 
ing to  their  emotions.  Can  you  imagine  the  average  group 
becoming  a  crowd  while  hearing  a  lecture  on  Dry  Fly 
Fishing,  or  on  Egyptian  Art?  On  the  other  hand,  it  would 
not  have  required  world-famous  eloquence  to  have  turned 
any  audience  in  Ulster,  in  1914,  into  a  crowd  by  discussing 
the  Home  Rule  Act.  The  crowd-spirit  depends  largely 
on  the  subject  used  to  fuse  their  individualities  into  one 
glowing  whole. 

Note  how  Antony  played  upon  the  feelings  of  his  hearers 
in  the  famous  fimeral  oration  given  by  Shakespeare  in 
'^  Julius  Caesar."  From  murmuring  imits  the  men  became 
a  unit — a  mob. 


Friends,  Romans,  countrymen!    Lend  me  your  ears; 

I  come  to  bury  Cassar,  not  to  praise  him. 

The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them; 

The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones: 

So  let  it  be  with  Caesar!    The  Noble  Brutus 

Hath  told  you  Caesar  was  ambitious. 

If  it  were  so,  it  was  a  grievous  fault, 

And  grievously  hath  Cassar  answered  it. 

Here,  imder  leave  of  Brutus,  and  the  rest — 

For  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man, 


So  are  they  all,  all  honorable  men — 

Come  I  to  speak  in  Cssar's  funeral. 

He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me: 

But  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious; 

And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 

He  hath  brought  many  captives  home  to  Rome, 

Whose  ransoms  did  the  general  coffers  fill: 

Did  this  in  Caesar  seem  ambitious? 

When  that  the  poor  have  cried,  Csesar  hath  wept; 

Ambition  should  be  made  of  sterner  stuff: 

Yet  Brutus  says,  he  was  ambitious; 

And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 

You  all  did  see,  that,  on  the  Lupercal, 

I  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown. 

Which  he  did  thrice  refuse.    Was  this  ambition? 

Yet  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious; 

And  sure,  he  is  an  honorable  man. 

I  speak  not  to  disprove  what  Brutus  spoke, 

But  here  I  am  to  speak  what  I  do  know. 

You  all  did  love  him  once,  not  without  cause; 

What  cause  withholds  you  then  to  mourn  for  him? 

Oh,  judgment,  thou  art  fled  to  brutish  beasts. 

And  men  haye  lost  their  reason! — Bear  with  me; 

My  heart  is  in  the  coffin  there  with  Cesar, 

And  I  must  pause  till  it  come  back  to  me.  [Weeps. 

1  Plebeian.    Methinks  there  is  much  reason  in  his  sayings. 

2  Pie.  If  thou  consider  rightly  of  the  matter, 
Csesar  has  had  great  wrong. 

3  Pie.  Has  he,  masters? 
I  fear  there  will  a  worse  come  in  his  place. 

4  Pie.  Mark'd  ye  his  words?    He  would  not  take  the  crown; 
Therefore,  'tis  certain,  he  was  not  ambitious. 

1  Pie.  If  it  be  found  so,  some  will  dear  abide  it. 

2  Pie.  Poor  soul,  his  eyes  are  red  as  fire  with  weeping. 

3  Pie.  There's  not  a  nobler  man  in  Rome  than  Antony. 

4  Pie.  Now  mark  him,  he  begins  again  to  speak. 
Anl.  But  yesterday,  the  word  of  Caesar  might 

Have  stood  against  the  world:  now  lies  he  there, 
And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence. 



Oh,  masters!  if  I  were  dispos'd  to  stir  4 

Your  hearts  and  minds  to  mutiny  and  rage, 

I  should  do  Brutus  wrong,  and  Cassius  wrong,  1 

Who,  you  all  know,  are  honorable  men.  J 

I  will  not  do  them  wrong;   I  rather  choose  1 

To  wrong  the  dead,  to  wrong  myself,  and  you. 

Than  I  will  wrong  such  honorable  men.  i 

But  here's  a  parchment,  with  the  seal  of  Caesar;  ^ 

I  found  it  in  his  closet;   'tis  his  will: 

Let  but  the  commons  hear  this  testament —  • 

Which,  pardon  me,  I  do  not  mean  to  read —  ^ 

And  they  would  go  and  kiss  dead  Caesar's  wounds, 

And  dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood; 

Yea,  beg  a  hair  of  him  for  memory,  j 

And,  djdng,  mention  it  within  their  wills. 

Bequeathing  it  as  a  rich  legacy 

Unto  their  issue.  J 

4  Pie.  We'll  hear  the  will:   Read  it,  Mark  Antony.  - 

All.  The  will!  the  will!  we  will  hear  Caesar's  will. 

Ant.  Have  patience,  gentle  friends:   I  must  not  read  it; 
It  is  not  meet  you  know  how  Caesar  lov'd  you.  t 

You  are  not  wood,  you  are  not  stones,  but  men;  ! 

And,  being  men,  hearing  the  will  of  Caesar, 

It  will  inflame  you,  it  will  make  you  mad:  { 

'Tis  good  you  know  not  that  you  are  his  heirs; 
For  if  you  should,  oh,  what  would  come  of  it! 

4  Pie.  Read«the  will;   we'll  hear  it,  Antony! 
You  shall  read  us  the  will!  Caesar's  will!  ^ 

Ant.  Will  you  be  patient?    Will  you  stay  awhile? 
I  have  o'ershot  myself,  to  tell  you  of  it. 

I  fear  I  wrong  the  honorable  men  ^ 

Whose  daggers  have  stab'd  Caesar;   I  do  fear  it. 

4  Pie.  They  were  traitors:   Honorable  men! 

All.  The  will!  the  testament! 

2  Pie.  They  were  villains,  murtherers!  The  will!  Read  the  will!  ' 

Ant.  You  will  compel  me  then  to  read  the  will? 
Then,  make  a  ring  about  the  corpse  of  Caesar, 

And  let  me  shew  you  him  that  made  the  will.  4 

Shall  I  descend?    And  will  you  give  me  leave? 


All.  Come  down. 

2  Pie.  Descend.  [He  comes  daunt  from  the  Rostrum. 

3  Pie.  You  shall  have  leave. 

4  Pie.  A  ring;   stand  round. 

1  Pie.  Stand  from  the  hearse,  stand  from  the  body. 

2  Pie.  Room  for  Antony! — most  noble  Antony! 
Ant.  Nay,  press  not  so  upon  me;  stand  far  off. 
All.  Stand  back!  room!  bear  back! 

Ant.  If  you  have  tears,  prepare  to  shed  them  now; 
You  all  do  know  this  mantle:   I  remember 
The  first  time  ever  Csesar  put  it  on; 
'Twas  on  a  summer's  evening,  in  his  tent, 
That  day  he  overcame  the  Nervii. 
Look,  in  this  place,  ran  Cassius'  dagger  through: 
See,  what  a  rent  the  envious  Casca  made: 
Through  this,  the  well-beloved  Brutus  stab'd; 
And  as  he  pluck 'd  his  cursed  steel  away, 
Mark  how  the  blood  of  Caesar  followed  it! — 
As  rushing  out  of  doors,  to  be  resolv'd 
If  Brutus  so  unkindly  knock 'd,  or  no; 
For  Brutus,  as  you  know,  was  Caesar's  angel: 
Judge,  O  you  Gods,  how  Caesar  lov'd  him! 
This  was  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all! 
For  when  the  noble  Caesar  saw  him  stab. 
Ingratitude,  more  strong  than  traitors'  arms. 
Quite  vanquish'd  him:   then  burst  his  mighty  heart; 
And  in  his  mantle  muffling  up  his  face,  • 

Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue. 
Which  all  the  while  ran  blood,  great  Caesar  fell. 
Oh  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen! 
Then  I  and  you,  and  all  of  us,  fell  down. 
Whilst  bloody  treason  flourish'd  over  us. 
Oh!  now  you  weep;  and  I  perceive  you  feel  . 
The  dint  of  pity;  these  are  gracious  drops. 
Kind  souls!  what,  weep  you,  when  you  but  behold 
Our  Caesar's  vesture  wounded?    Look  you  here! 
Here  is  himself,  mar'd,  as  you  see,  by  traitors. 

1  Pie.  Oh,  piteous  spectacle! 

2  Pie.  Oh,  noble  Caesar! 


3  Pie.  Oh,  woful  day! 

4  Pie,  Oh,  traitors,  villains! 

1  Pie,  Oh,  most  bloody  sight! 

2  Pie,  We  will  be  reveng'd! 

AU,  Revenge;  about — seek — bum — ^fire — ^kill — slay! — Let  not 

a  traitor  live! 
Ant,  Stay,  countrymen. 

1  Pie.  Peace  there!    Hear  the  noble  Antony. 

2  Pie,  We'll  hear  him,  we'll  follow  him,  we'll  die  with  him. 
Ant,  Good  friends,  sweet  friends,  let  me  not  stir  you  up 

To  such  a  sudden  flood  of  mutiny: 

They  that  have  done  this  deed  are  honorable: 

What  private  griefs  they  have,  alas!  I  know  not, 

That  made  them  do  it;  they  are  wise,  and  honorable. 

And  will,  no  doubt,  with  reasons  answer  you. 

I  come  not,  friends,  to  steal  away  your  hearts; 

I  am  no  orator,  as  Brutus  is; 

But  as  you  know  me  all,  a  plain  blunt  man, 

That  love  my  friend,  and  that  they  know  full  well 

That  gave  me  public  leave  to  speak  of  him: 

For  I  have  neither  wit,  nor  words,  nor  worth, 

Action,  nor  utterance,  nor  the  power  of  speech. 

To  stir  men's  blood.    I  only  speak  right  on: 

I  tell  you  that  which  you  yourselves  do  know; 

Show  your  sweet  Csesar's  wounds,  poor,  poor,  dumb  mouths. 

And  bid  them  speak  for  me.    But  were  I  Brutus, 

And  Brutus  Antony,  there  were  an  Antony 

Would  ruffle  up  your  spirits,  and  put  a  tongue 

In  every  wound  of  Caesar,  that  should  move 

The  stones  of  Rome  to  rise  and  mutiny. 

All.  We'll  mutiny! 

1  Pie.  We'll  bum  the  house  of  Brutus. 

3  Pie.  Away,  then!    Come,  seek  the  conspirators. 
Ant.  Yet  hear  me,  countrymen;  yet  hear  me  speak. 
All.  Peace,  ho!    Hear  Antony,  most  noble  Antony. 
Ant.  Why,  friends,  you  go  to  do  you  know  not  what. 

Wherein  hath  Caesar  thus  deserv'd  your  loves? 
Alas!  you  know  not! — I  must  tell  you  then. 
You  have  forgot  the  will  I  told  you  of. 


Pie.  Most  true; — ^the  will! — diet's  stay,  and  hear  the  will. 

Ant,  Here  is  the  will,  and  under  Csesar's  seal. 
To  every  Roman  citizen  he  gives, 
To  every  several  man,  seventy-five  drachmas. 

2  Pie.  Most  noble  Csesar! — ^we'll  revenge  his  death. 

3  Pie,  O  royal  Caesar! 

Ant.  Hear  me  with  patience. 

AU.  Peace,  ho! 

AfU,  Moreover,  he  hath  left  you  all  his  walks, 
His  private  arbours,  and  new-planted  orchards, 
On  this  side  Tiber;  he  hath  left  them  you, 
And  to  your  heirs  forever,  common  pleasures, 
To  walk  abroad,  and  recreate  yourselves. 
Here  was  a  Caesar!    When  comes  such  another? 

1  Pie.  Never,  never! — Come,  away,  away! 
Well  bum  his  body  in  the  holy  place. 

And  with  the  brands  fire  the  traitors'  houses. 
Take  up  the  body. 

2  Pie.  Go,  fetch  fire. 

3  Pie.  Pluck  down  benches. 

4  Pie.  Pluck  down  forms,  windows,  anything. 

[Exeunt  Citizens,  with  the  body. 
Ant.  Now  let  it  work.    Mischief,  thou  art  afoot. 
Take  thou  what  course  thou  wilt! 

To  unify  single  auditors  into  a  crowd,  express  their 
common  needs,  aspirations,  dangers,  and  emotions,  de- 
liver your  message  so  that  the  interests  of  one  shall  appear 
to  be  the  interests  of  all.  The  conviction  of  one  man  is 
intensified  in  proportion  as  he  finds  others  sharing 
his  belief — and  feeling.  Antony  does  not  stop  with  telling 
the  Roman  populace  that  Caesar  fell — ^he  makes  the 
tragedy  universal: 

Then  I,  and  you,  and  all  of  us  fell  down. 
Whilst  bloody  treason  flourished  over  us. 

Applause,  generally  a  sign  of  feeling,  helps  to  unify  an 


audience.  The  nature  of  the  crowd  is  illustrated  by  the 
contagion  of  applause.  Recently  a  throng  in  a  New  York 
moving-picture  and  vaudeville  house  had  been  applauding 
several  songs,  and  when  an  advertisement  for  tailored 
skirts  was  thrown  on  the  screen  some  one  started  the 
applause,  and  the  crowd,  like  sheep,  blindly  imitated — 
until  someone  saw  the  joke  and  laughed;  then  the  crowd 
again  followed  a  leader  and  laughed  at  and  applauded  its 
own  stupidity. 

Actors  sometimes  start  applause  for  their  lines  by  snap- 
ping their  fingers.  Some  one  in  the  first  few  rows  will  mis- 
take it  for  faint  applause,  and  the  whole  theatre  will  chime 

An  observant  auditor  will  be  interested  in  noticing 
the  various  devices  a  monologist  will  use  to  get  the  first 
round  of  laughter  and  applause.  He  works  so  hard  be- 
cause he  knows  an  audience  of  units  is  an  audience  of 
indifferent  critics,  but  once  get  them  to  laughing  together 
and  each  single  laugher  sweeps  a  number  of  others  with 
him,  until  the  whole  theatre  is  aroar  and  the  entertainer 
has  scored.  These  are  meretricious  schemes,  to  be  sure, 
and  do  not  savor  in  the  least  of  inspiration,  but  crowds 
have  not  changed  in  their  nature  in  a  thousand  years  and 
the  one  law  holds  for  the  greatest  preacher  and  the  pettiest 
stump-speaker — ^you  must  fuse  your  audience  or  they  will 
not  warm  to  your  message.  The  devices  of  the  great 
orator  may  not  be  so  obvious  as  those  of  the  vaudeville 
monologist,  but  the  principle  is  the  same:  he  tries  to 
strike  some  universal  note  that  will  have  all  his  hearers 
feeling  alike  at  the  same  time. 


The  evangelist  knows  this  when  he  has  the  soloist  sing 
some  touching  song  just  before  the  address.  Or  he  will 
have  the  entire  congregation  sing,  and  that  is  the  psy- 
chology of  "Now  CTer3;body  sing!"  for  he  knows  that  they 
who  will  not  join  in  the  song  are  as  yet  outside  the  crowd. 
Many  a  time  has  the  popular  evangelist  stopped  in  the 
middle  of  his  talk,  when  he  felt  that  his  hearers  were  units 
instead  of  a  molten  mass  (and  a  sensitive  speaker  can  feel 
that  condition  most  depressingly)  and  suddenly  demanded 
that  everyone  arise  and  sing,  or  repeat  aloud  a  familiar 
passage,  or  read  in  imison;  or  perhaps  he  has  subtly  left 
the  thread  of  his  discourse  to  tell  a  story  that,  from  long 
experience,  he  knew  would  not  fail  to  bring  his  hearers  to 
a  common  feeling. 

These  things  are  important  resources  for  the  speaker, 
and  happy  is  he  who  uses  them  worthily  and  not  as  a 
despicable  charlatan.  The  difference  between  a  dema- 
gogue and  a  leader  is  not  so  much  a  matter  of  method  as  of 
principle.  Even  the  most  dignified  speaker  must  recog- 
nize the  eternal  laws  of  human  nature.  You  are  by  no 
means  urged  to  become  a  trickster  on  the  platform — far 
from  it! — ^but  don't  kill  your  speech  with  dignity.  To  be 
idly  correct  is  as  silly  as  to  rant.  Do  neither,  but  appeal 
to  those  world-old  elements  in  your  audience  that  have 
been  recognized  by  all  great  speakers  from  Demosthenes  to 
Sam  Small,  and  see  to  it  that  you  never  debase  your 
powers  by  arousing  your  hearers  unworthily. 

It  is  as  hard  to  kindle  enthusiasm  in  a  scattered  audi- 
ence as  to  build  a  fire  with  scattered  sticks.  An  audience 
to  be  converted  into  a  crowd  must  be  made  to  appear  as 


a  crowd.  This  cannot  be  done  when  they  aie  wiady 
scattered  over  a  large  seating  space  or  when  many  empty 
benches  separate  the  speaker  from  his  hearers.  Have 
your  audience  seated  compactly.  How  many  a  preacher 
has  bemoaned  the  enormous  edifice  over  which  what  would 
normally  be  a  large  congregation  has  scattered  in  chilled 
and  chilling  solitude  Sunday  after  Sunday!  Bish<^ 
Brooks  himself  could  not  have  inspired  a  congregation  of 
one  thousand  souls  seated  in  the  vastness  of  St  Peter's 
at  Rome.  In  that  colossal  sanctuary  it  is  only  on  great 
occasions  which  bring  out  the  multitudes  that  the  service 
is  before  the  high  altar — at  other  times  the  smaller  side- 
chapels  are  used. 

Universal  ideas  surcharged  with  feeling  help  to  create 
the  crowd-atmosphere.  Examples:  liberty,  character, 
righteousness,  courage,  fraternity,  altruism,  country,  and 
national  heroes.  George  Cohan  was  making  psychology 
practical  and  profitable  when  he  introduced  the  flag  and 
flag-songs  into  his  musical  comedies.  Cromwell's  r^- 
ments  prayed  before  the  battle  and  went  into  the  fight 
singing  h3anns.  The  French  corps,  singing  the  Marseil- 
laise in  1914,  charged  the  Germans  as  one  man.  Such 
unifying  devices  arouse  the  feelings,  make  soldiers  fanati- 
cal mobs — and,  alas,  more  efficent  murderers. 



To  think,  and  to  feel,  constitute  the  two  grand  divisions  of 

men  of  genius — the  men  of  reasoning  and  the  men  of  imagination. 

— Isaac  Disraeli,  Literary  Character  of  Men  of  Genius, 

And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  tmknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shapes  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name. 

— Shakbspbarb,  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 

It  is  common,  among  those  who 'Heal  chiefly  with  life's 
practicalities,  to  think  of  imagination  as  having  little  value 
in  comparison  with  direct  thinking.  They  smile  with 
tolerance  when  Emerson  says  that  '' Science  does  not 
know  its  debt  to  the  imagination,"  for  these  are  the  words 
of  a  speculative  essayist,  a  philosopher,  a  poet.  But 
when  Napoleon — the  indomitable  welder  of  empires — de- 
clares that  ''The  human  race  is  governed  by  its  imagina- 
tion," the  authoritative  word  commands  their  respect. 

Be  it  remembered,  the  facidty  of  forming  mental  images 
is  as  efficient  a  cog  as  may  be  found  in  the  whole  mind- 
machine.  True,  it  must  fit  into  that  other  vital  cog,  pure 
thought,  but  when  it  does  so  it  may  be  questioned 
which  is  the  more  productive  of  important  results  for  the 
happiness  and  well-being  of  man.  This  should  become 
more  apparent  as  we  go  on. 



Let  us  not  seek  for  a  definition,  for  a  score  of  varying 
ones  may  be  found,  but  let  us  grasp  this  fact:  By  imagina- 
tion we  mean  either  the  faculty  or  the  process  of  forming 
mental  images. 

The  subject-matter  of  imagination  may  be  really  ex- 
istent in  nature,  or  not  at  all  real,  or  a  combination  of 
both;  it  may  be  ph3rsical  or  spiritual,  or  both — the  mental 
image  is  at  once  the  most  lawless  and  the  most  law-abiding 
child  that  has  ever  been  bom  of  the  mind. 

First  of  all,  as  its  name  suggests,  the  process  of  imagina- 
tion— ^for  we  are  thinking  of  it  now  as  a  process  rather 
than  as  a  faculty — ^is  memory  at  work.  Therefore  we 
must  consider  it  primarily  as 

J.  Reproductive  Imaginaiion 

We  see  or  hear  or  feel  or  taste  or  smell  something  and 
the  sensation  passes  away.  Yet  we  are  conscious  of  a 
greater  or  lesser  ability  to  reproduce  such  feelings  at  wilL 
Two  considerations,  in  general,  will  govern  the  vividness 
of  the  image  thus  evoked — the  strength  of  the  original 
impression,  and  the  reproductive  power  of  one  mind  as 
compared  with  another.  Yet  every  normal  person  will 
be  able  to  evoke  images  with  some  degree  of  clearness. 

The  fact  that  not  all  minds  possess  this  imaging  faculty 
in  anything  like  equal  measure  will  have  an  important 
bearing  on  the  public  speaker's  study  of  this  question. 
No  man  who  does  not  fed  at  least  some  poetic  impulses 
is  likely  to  aspire  seriously  to  be  a  poet,  yet  many  whose 


imaging  faculties  are  so  dormant  as  to  seem  actually 
dead  do  aspire  to  be  public  speakers.  To  all  such  we  say 
most  earnestly :  Awaken  your  image-making  gift,  for  even 
in  the  most  coldly  logical  discourse  it  is  sure  to  prove  of 
great  service.  It  is  important  that  you  find  out  at  once 
just  how  full  and  how  trustworthy  is  your  imagination, 
for  it  is  capable  of  cultivation — ^as  well  as  of  abuse. 

Francis  Galtoni  says:  "The  French  appear  to  possess 
the  visualizing  faculty  in  a  high  d^ee.  The  peculiar 
ability  they  show  in  pre-arranging  ceremonials  and  f^tes 
of  all  kinds  and  their  imdoubted  genius  for  tactics  and 
strategy  show  that  they  are  able  to  foresee  effects 
with  unusual  clearness.  Their  ingenuity  in  all  technical 
contrivances  is  an  additional  testimony  in  the  same  di- 
rection, and  so  is  their  singular  clearness  of  expression. 
Their  phrase  figurez-vous,  or  picture  to  yourself,  seems  to 
express  their  dominant  mode  of  perception.  Our  equiva- 
lent, of  'image/  is  ambiguous." 

But  individuals  differ  in  this  respect  just  as  markedly 
as,  for  instance,  the  Dutch  do  from  the  French.  And  this 
is  true  not  only  of  those  who  are  classified  by  their  friends 
as  being  respectively  imaginative  or  vmimaginative,  but 
of  those  whose  gifts  or  habits  are  not  well  known. 

Let  us  take  for  experiment  six  of  the  best-known  types 
of  imaging  and  see  in  practise  how  they  arise  in  our  own 

By  all  odds  the  most  common  type  is,  (a)  the  tisual 
image.  Children  who  more  readily  recall  things  seen 
than   things  heard   are   called  by  psychologists   "eye- 

^Inquiriet  into  Human  FacuUy. 


minded/'  and  most  of  us  are  bent  in  this  direction.  Close 
your  eyes  now  and  re-call — ^the  word  thus  hyphenated 
is  more  suggestive — ^the  scene  around  this  morning's 
breakfast  table.  Possibly  there  was  nothing  striking  in 
the  situation  and  the  image  is  therefore  not  striking.  Then 
image  any  notable  table  scene  in  your  experience — ^how 
vividly  it  stands  forth,  because  at  the  time  you  felt  the 
impression  strongly.  Just  then  you  may  not  have  been 
conscious  of  how  strongly  the  scene  was  la3ring  hold  upon 
you,  for  often  we  are  so  intent  upon  what  we  see  that  we 
give  no  particular  thought  to  the  fact  that  it  is  impressing 
us.  It  may  surprise  you  to  learn  how  accurately  you  are 
able  to  image  a  scene  when  a  long  time  has  elapsed  be- 
tween the  conscious  focussing  of  your  attention  on  the 
image  and  the  time  when  you  saw  the  original. 

(b)  The  audiiory  image  is  probably  the  next  most 
vivid  of  our  recalled  experiences.  Here  association  is 
potent  to  suggest  similarities.  Close  out  all  the  world 
beside  and  Hsten  to  the  peculiar  wood-against-wood  sound 
of  the  sharp  thunder  among  rocky  mountains — the  crash 
of  ball  against  ten-pins  may  suggest  it.  Or  image  (the 
word  is  imperfect,  for  it  seems  to  suggest  only  the  eye) 
the  sound  of  tearing  ropes  when  some  precious  weight 
hangs  in  danger.  Or  recall  the  bay  of  a  hound  almost 
upon  you  in  pursuit — choose  your  own  soimd,  and  see 
how  pleasantly  or  terribly  real  it  becomes  when  imaged 
in  your  brain. 

(c)  The  motor  image  is  a  close  competitor  with  the 
auditory  for  second  place.  Have  you  ever  awakened  in 
the  night,  every  muscle  taut  and  striving,  to  feel  your 


sdf  straining  against  the  opposing  foot-ball  line  that  held 
like  a  stone-wall — or  as  firmly  as  the  headboard  of  your- 
bed?  Or  voluntarily  recall  the  movement  of  the  boat 
when  you  cried  inwardly,  "It's  all  up  with  me!"  The 
perilous  Imrch  of  a  train,  the  sudden  sinking  of  an  elevator, 
or  the  unexpected  toppling  of  a  rocking-chair  may  serve 
as  further  experiments. 

(d)  The  gustatory  image  is  common  enough,  as  the  idea 
of  eating  lemons  will  testify.  Sometimes  the  pleasur- 
able recollection  of  a  delightful  dinner  will  cause  the  mouth 
to  water  years  afterward,  or  the  "image"  of  particularly 
atrocious  medicine  will  wrinkle  the  nose  long  after  it 
made  one  day  in  boyhood  wretched. 

(e)  The  olfactory  image  is  even  more  delicate.  Some 
there  are  who  are  affected  to  illness  by  the  memory  of 
certain  odors,  while  others  experience  the  most  delectable 
sensations  by  the  rise  of  pleasing  olfactory  images. 

(f)  The  tactile  image,  to  name  no  others,  is  well  nigh 
as  potent.  Do  you  shudder  at  the  thought  of  velvet 
rubbed  by  short-nailed  finger  tips?  Or  were  you  ever 
"  burned  "  by  touching  an  ice-cold  stove?  Or,  happier  mem- 
ory, can  you  still  feel  the  touch  of  a  well-loved  absent  hand? 

Be  it  remembered  that  few  of  these  images  are  present 
in  our  minds  except  in  combination — the  sight  and  sound 
of  the  crashing  avalanche  are  one;  so  are  the  flash  and 
report  of  the  huntman's  gun  that  came  so  near  "doing 
for  us." 

Thus,  imaging — especially  conscious  reproductive  im- 
agination— ^will  become  a  valuable  part  of  our  mental 
processes  in   proportion  as  we   direct  and   control   it. 


2.  Productive  Imaginaiian 

All  of  the  foregoing  examples,  and  doubtless  also  many 
of  the  experiments  you  yourself  may  originate,  are  merely 
reproductive.  Pleasurable  or  horrific  as  these  may  be,  they 
are  far  less  important  than  the  images  evoked  by  the  pro- 
ductive imagination — though  that  does  not  infer  a  separate 

Recall,  again  for  experiment,  some  scene  whose  be- 
ginning you  once  saw  enacted  on  a  street  comer  but 
passed  by  before  the  denouement  was  ready  to  be  disclosed. 
Recall  it  all — that  far  the  image  is  reproductive.  But 
what  followed?  Let  your  fantasy  roam  at  pleasure — ^the 
succeeding  scenes  are  productive,  for  you  have  more  or 
less  consciously  invented  the  unreal  on  the  basis  of  the 

And  just  here  the  fictionist,  the  poet,  and  the  public 
speaker  will  see  the  value  of  productive  imagery.  True, 
the  feet  of  the  idol  you  build  are  on  the  ground,  but  its 
head  pierces  the  clouds,  it  is  a  son  of  both  earth  and  heaven. 

One  fact  it  is  important  to  note  here:  Imagery  is  a 
valuable  mental  asset  in  proportion  as  it  is  controlled  by 
the  higher  intellectual  power  of  pure  reason.  The  un- 
tutored child  of  nature  thinks  largely  in  images  and  there- 
fore attaches  to  them  undue  importance.  He  readily 
confuses  the  real  with  the  imreal — to  him  they  are  of 
like  value.  But  the  man  of  training  readily  distinguishes 
the  one  from  the  other  and  evaluates  each  with  some, 
if  not  with  perfect,  justice. 

So  we  see  that  imrestrained^imaging  may  produce  a 


rudderless  steamer,  while  the  trained  faculty  is  the  grace- 
ful sloop,  skimming  the  seas  at  her  skipper's  will,  her 
course  steadied  by  the  helm  of  reason  and  her  lightsome 
wings  catching  every  air  of  heaven. 

The  game  of  chess,  the  war-lord's  tactical  plan,  the 
evolution  of  a  geometrical  theorem,  the  devising  of  a 
great  business  campaign,  the  elimination  of  waste  in  a 
factory,  the  denouement  of  a  powerful  drama,  the  over- 
coming of  an  economic  obstacle,  the  scheme  for  a  sublime 
poem,  and  the  convincing  siege  of  an  audience  may — ^nay, 
indeed  must — each  be  conceived  in  an  image  and  wrought 
to  reality  according  to  the  plans  and  specifications  laid 
upon  the  trestle  board  by  some  modern  imaginative  Hiram. 
The  farmer  who  would  be  content  with  the  seed  he  pos- 
sesses would  have  no  harvest.  Do  not  rest  satisfied  with 
the  ability  to  recall  images,  but  cultivate  your  creative 
imagination  by  building  "what  might  be"  upon  the 
foimdation  of  "what  is." 


By  this  time  you  will  have  already  made  some  general 
application  of  these  ideas  to  the  art  of  the  platform,  but 
to  several  specific  uses  we  must  now  refer. 

I.  Imaging  in  Speech-Preparaiion 

(a)  Set  the  image  of  your  audience  before  you  while  you 
prepare.  Disappointment  may  lurk  here,  and  you  cannot 
be  forearmed  for  every  emergency,  but  in  the  main  you 
must  meet  your  audience  before  you  actually  do — ^image 


its  probable  mood  and  attitude  toward  the  occasion,  the 
theme,  and  the  speaker. 

(b)  Conceive  your  speech  as  a  whole  while  you  are  pre- 
paring its  parts,  else  can  you  not  see — ^image — ^how  its 
parts  shall  be  fitly  framed  together. 

(c)  Image  the  language  you  will  use,  so  far  as  written 
or  extemporaneous  speech  may  dictate.  The  habit  of 
imaging  will  give  you  choice  of  varied  figures  of  speech, 
for  remember  that  an  address  without  fresh  comparisons 
is  like  a  garden  without  blooms.  Do  not  be  content  with 
the  first  hackneyed  figure  that  comes  flowing  to  your  pen- 
point,  but  dream  on  until  the  striking,  the  unusual,  yet 
the  vividly  real  comparison  points  your  thought  like 
steel  does  the  arrow-tip. 

Note  the  freshness  and  effectiveness  of  the  following 
description  from  the  opening  of  O.  Henry's  story,  "The 

Long  before  the  springtide  is  felt  in  the  dull  bosom  of  the 
yokel  does  the  dty  man  know  that  the  grass-green  goddess  is 
upon  her  throne.  He  sits  at  his  breakfast  eggs  and  toast,  begirt 
by  stone  walls,  opens  his  morning  paper  and  sees  journalism  leave 
vemalism  at  the  post. 

For  whereas  Spring's  couriers  were  once  the  evidence  of  our 
finer  senses,  now  the  Associated  Press  does  the  trick. 

The  warble  of  the  first  robin  in  Hackensack,  the  stirring  of 
the  maple  sap  in  Bennington,  the  budding  of  the  pussy  willows 
along  the  main  street  in  Syracuse,  the  first  chirp  of  the  blue 
bird,  the  swan  song  of  the  blue  point,  the  annual  tornado  in 
St.  Louis,  the  plaint  of  the  peach  pessimist  from  Pompton,  N.  J., 
the  regtdar  visit  of  the  tame  wild  goose  with  a  broken  1^  to  the 
pond  near  Bilgewater  Junction,  the  base  attempt  of  the  Drug 
Trust  to  boost  the  price  of  quinine  foiled  in  the  House  by  Con- 
gressman Jinks,  the  first  tall  poplar  struck  by  lightning  and  the 


usual  stunned  picknickers  who  had  taken  refuge,  the  first  crack 
of  the  ice  jamb  in  the  Allegheny  River,  the  finding  of  a  violet 
in  its  mossy  bed  by  the  correspondent  at  Round  Comers — ^these 
are  the  advanced  signs  of  the  burgeoning  season  that  are  wired 
into  the  wise  city,  while  the  farmer  sees  nothing  but  winter  upon 
his  dreary  fields. 

But  these  be  mere  externals.  The  true  harbinger  is  the  heart. 
When  Strephon  seeks  his  CUoe  and  Mike  his  Maggie,  then  only 
is  Spring  arrived  and  the  newspaper  report  of  the  five  foot  rattler 
killed  in  Squire  Pettregrew's  pasture  confirmed. 

A  hackneyed  writer  would  probably  have  said  that  the 
newspaper  told  the  city  man  about  spring  before  the 
farmer  could  see  any  evidence  of  it,  but  that  the  real 
harbinger  of  spring  was  love  and  that  ''In  the  Spring  a 
young  man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts  of  love." 

2.  Imaging  in  Speech-Delivery 

When  once  the  passion  of  speech  is  on  you  and  you  are 
"warmed  up" — ^perhaps  by  striking  Ml  the  iron  is  hot 
so  that  you  may  not  fail  to  strike  when  it  is  hot — ^your 
mood  will  be  one  of  vision. 

Then  (a)  Re-image  past  emotion — of  which  more  else- 
where. The  actor  re-calls  the  old  feelings  every  time  he 
renders  his  telling  lines. 

(b)  Reconstruct  in  image  the  scenes  you  are  to  describe, 

(c)  Image  the  objects  in  nature  whose  tone  you  are 
delineating,  so  that  bearing  and  voice  and  movement 
(gesture)  will  picture  forth  the  whole  convincingly. 
Instead  of  merely  stating  the  fact  that  whiskey  ruins 
homes,  the  temperance  speaker  paints  a  drunkard  coming 
home  to  abuse  his  wife  and  strike  his  children.    It  is  much 


more  eflFective  than  telling  the  truth  in  abstract  terms.  To 
depict  the  cruehiess  of  war,  do  not  assert  the  fact  ab- 
stractly— "  War  is  cruel."  Show  the  soldier,  an  arm  swept 
away  by  a  bursting  shell,  lying  on  the  battlefield  pleading 
for  water;  show  the  children  with  tear-stained  faces 
pressed  against  the  window  pane  praying  for  their  dead 
father  to  return.  Avoid  general  and  prosaic  terms.  Paint 
pictures.  Evolve  images  for  the  imagination  of  your 
audience  to  construct  into  pictures  of  their  own. 


You  remember  the  American  statesman  who  asserted 
that  "the  way  to  resume  is  to  resimie"?  The  application 
is  obvious.  Beginning  with  the  first  simple  anal3rses  of 
this  chapter,  test  your  own  qualities  of  image-making. 
One  by  one  practise  the  several  kinds  of  images;  then  add 
— even  invent — others  in  combination,  for  many  images 
come  to  us  in  complex  form,  like  the  combined  noise  and 
shoving  and  hot  odor  of  a  cheering  crowd. 

After  practising  on  reproductive  imaging,  turn  to  the 
productive,  beginning  with  the  reproductive  and  adding 
productive  features  for  the  sake  of  cultivating  invention. 

Frequently,  allow  your  originating  gifts  fuU  swing  by 
weaving  complete  imaginary  fabrics— sights,  sounds, 
scenes;  all  the  fine  world  of  fantasy  lies  open  to  the 
journeyings  of  your  winged  steed. 

In  like  manner  train  yourself  in  the  use  of  figurative 
language.  Learn  first  to  distinguish  and  then  to  use  its 
varied  forms.  When  used  with  restraint,  nothing  can  be 
more  effective  than  the  trope;  but  once  let  extravagance 


creep  in  by  the  window,  and  power  will  flee  by  the  door. 

All  in  all,  master  your  images — ^let  not  them  master 



I.  Give  original  examples  of  each  kind  of  rq)roductive 

3.  Build  two  of  these  into  imaginary  incidents  for 
platform  use,  using  your  productive,  or  creative,  imagin- 

3.  Define  (a)  phantasy;  (b)  vision;  (c)  fantastic; 
(d)  phantasmagoria;    (e)  transmogrify;   (/)  recollection. 

4.  What  is  a  "figure  of  speech"? 

5.  Define  and  give  two  examples  of  each  of  the  follow- 
ing figures  of  speech^.  At  least  one  of  the  examples  under 
each  type  would  better  be  original,  (a)  simile;  (b)  meta- 
phor; (c)  metonymy;  (<f)  synecdoche;  (e)  apostrophe;  (/) 
vision;    (g)  personification;    (h)  hyperbole;    (*)  irony. 

6.  (a)  What  is  an  allegory?  (b)  Name  one  example. 
(c)  How  could  a  short  allegory  be  used  as  part  of  a  public 

7.  Write  a  short  fable*  for  use  in  a  speech.  Follow 
either  the  ancient  form  (iEsop)  or  the  modern  (George 
•Ade,  Josephine  Dodge  Daskam). 

8.  What  do  you  imderstand  by  "the  historical  pre- 
sent?" Illustrate  how  it  may  be  used  (ONLY  occasion- 
ally) in  a  public  address. 

9.  Recall  some  disturbance  on  the  street,  (a)  De- 
scribe it  as  you  would  on  the  platform;  (b)  imagine  what 

^Consult  any  good  rhetoric.    An  unabridged  dictionary  will  aleo  be  of  help. 
*For  a  full  disouanon  of  the  form  see,  The  Art  0/  Story-Writing,  by  J.  Berg 
Eaenwein  and  Mary  D.  Chambem. 


preceded  the  disturbance;  (c)  imagine  what  followed  it; 
(d)  connect  the  whole  in  a  terse,  dramatic  narration  for 
the  platform  and  deliver  it  with  careful  attention  to  all 
that  you  have  learned  of  the  public  speaker's  art. 

10.  Do  the  same  with  other  incidents  you  have  seen, 
or  heard  of,  or  read  of  in  the  newspapers. 

Note:  It  is  hoped  that  this  exercise  wiU  be  varied  and 
expanded  until  the  pupil  has  gained  considerable  mastery 
of  imaginative  narration.  (See  chapter  on  ''Narra- 

11.  Experiments  have  proved  that  the  majority  of 
people  think  most  vividly  in  terms  of  visual  images. 
However,  some  think  more  readily  in  terms  of  auditory 
and  motor  images.  It  is  a  good  plan  to  mix  all  kinds  of 
images  in  the  course  of  your  address  for  you  wiU  doubtless 
have  all  kinds  of  hearers.  This  plan  ynH  serve  to  give 
variety  and  strengthen  your  effects  by  appealing  to  the 
several  senses  of  each  hearer,  as  well  as  interesting  many 
different  auditors.  For  exercise,  (a)  give  several  original 
examples  of  compound  images,  and  (b)  construct  brief 
descriptions  of  the  scenes  imagined.  For  example,  the 
falling  of  a  bridge  in  process  of  building. 

12.  Read  the  following  observantly: 

The  strikers  suffered  bitter  poverty  last  winter  in  New  York. 

Last  winter  a  woman  visiting  the  East  Side  of  New  York  City 
saw  another  woman  coming  out  of  a  tenement  house  wringing 
her  hands.  Upon  inquiry  the  visitor  found  that  a  child  had 
fainted  in  one  of  the  apartments.  She  entered,  and  saw  the  child 
ill  and  in  rags,  while  the  father,  a  striker,  was  too  poor  to  pro- 
vide medical  help.  A  physician  was  called  and  said  the  child  had 
fainted  from  lack  of  food.    The  only  food  in  the  home  was  dried 


fiah.  The  visitor  provided  groceries  for  the  family  and  ordered 
the  TntllfiTiAn  to  leave  milk  for  them  daily.  A  month  later  she 
returned.  The  father  of  the  family  knelt  down  before  her,  and 
calling  her  an  angel  said  that  she  had  saved  their  lives,  for  the 
milk  she  had  provided  was  all  the  food  they  had  had. 

In  the  two  preceding  paragraphs  we  have  substantially 
the  same  story,  told  twice.  In  the  first  paragraph  we 
have  a  fact  stated  in  general  terms.  In  the  second,  we 
have  an  outline  picture  of  a  specific  happening.  Now 
expand  this  outline  into  a  dramatic  recital,  drawing  freely 
upon  your  imagination. 



Boys  flying  kites  hatil  in  their  white  winged  birds; 
You  can't  do  that  way  when  you're  flying  words. 
"Careful  with  fire,"  is  good  advice  we  know, 
"Careful  with  words,"  is  ten  times  doubly  so. 
Thoughts  unexpressed  many  sometimes  f  aU  back  dead ; 
But  God  Himself  can't  kill  them  when  they're  said. 

—Will  Carleton,  The  First  SetOer's  Story, 

The  term  "  vocabulary ''  has  a  special  as  well  as  a  general 
meaning.  True,  all  vocabularies  are  grounded  in  the 
everyday  words  of  the  language,  out  of  which  grow  the 
special  vocabularies,  but  each  such  specialized  group 
possesses  a  nimiber  of  words  of  peculiar  value  for  its  own 
objects.  These  words  may  be  used  in  other  vocabularies 
also,  but  the  fact  that  they  are  suited  to  a  unique  order  of 
expression  marks  them  as  of  special  value  to  a  particular 
craft  or  calling. 

In  this  respect  the  public  speaker  differs  not  at  all  from 
the  poet,  the  novelist,  the  scientist,  the  traveler.  He  must 
add  to  his  everyday  stock,  words  of  value  for  the  public 
presentation  of  thought.  ''A  study  of  the  discourses  of 
effective  orators  discloses  the  fact  that  they  have  a  fond- 
ness for  words  signifying  power,  largeness,  speed,  action, 
color,  light,  and  all  their  opposites.  They  frequently 
employ  words  expressive  of  the  various  emotions.  De- 
scriptive words,  adjectives  used  in  fresh  relations  with 
nouns,  and  apt  epithets,  are  freely  employed.    Indeed, 


the  nature  of  public  speech  permits  the  use  of  mildly 
exaggerated  words  which,  by  the  time  they  have  reached 
the  hearer's  judgment,  will  leave  only  a  just  impression.^" 

Form  (he  Book-Note  Habit 

To  possess  a  word  involves  three  things:  To  know  its 
special  and  broader  meanings,  to  know  its  relation  to 
other  words,  and  to  be  able  to  use  it.  When  you  see  or 
hear  a  familiar  word  used  in  an  unfamiliar  sense,  jot  it 
down,  look  it  up,  and  master  it.  We  have  in  mind  a 
speaker  of  superior  attainments  who  acquired  his  vocabu- 
lary by  noting  all  new  words  he  heard  or  read.  These  he 
mastered  and  put  into  use.  Soon  his  vocabulary  became 
large,  varied,  and  exact.  Use  a  new  word  accurately  five 
times  and  it  is  yours.  Professor  Albert  E.  Hancock  says: 
**An  author's  vocabulary  is  of  two  kinds,  latent  and 
dynamic:  latent — ^those  words  he  understands;  dynamic 
— those  he  can  readily  use.  Every  intelligent  man  knows 
all  the  words  he  needs,  but  he  may  not  have  them  all  ready 
for  active  service.  The  problem  of  literary  diction  consists 
in  turning  the  latent  into  the  dynamic."  Your  dynamic 
vocabulary  is  the  one  you  must  especially  cultivate. 

In  his  essay  on  ''A  College  Magazine"  in  the  voliune, 
Memories  and  Portraits,  Stevenson  shows  how  he  rose  from 
imitation  to  originality  in  the  use  of  words.  He  had 
particular  reference  to  the  formation  of  his  literary  style, 
but  words  are  the  raw  materials  of  style,  and  his  excellent 
example  may  well  be  followed  judiciously  by  the  public 

X  How  to  AUraet  and  Hold  an  AudioneOt  J.  B«is  Eaenwein. 


speaker.    Words  in  their  rdoHons  are  vastly  more  impor- 
tant than  words  considered  singly.    , 

Whenever  I  read  a  book  or  a  passage  that  particularly  pleased 
me,  in  which  a  thing  was  said  or  an  effect  rendered  with  propriety, 
in  which  there  was  either  some  conspicuous  force  or  some  happy 
distinction  in  the  style,  I  must  sit  down  at  once  and  set  myself 
to  ape  that  quality.  I  was  unsuccessful,  and  I  knew  it;  and  tried 
again,  and  was  again  unsuccessful,  and  always  tmsuccessful; 
but  at  least  in  these  vain  bouts  I  got  some  practice  in  rhythm, 
in  harmony,  in  construction  and  coordination  of  parts. 

I  have  thus  played  the  sedulous  ape  to  Hazlitt,  to  Lamb,  to 
Wordsworth,  to  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  to  Defoe,  to  Hawthorne, 
to  Montaigne. 

That,  like  it  or  not,  is  the  way  to  learn  to  write;  whether  I 
have  profited  or  not,  that  is  the  way.  It  was  the  way  Keats 
learned,  and  there  never  was  a  finer  temperament  for  literature 
than  Keats'. 

It  is  the  great  point  of  these  imitations  that  there  still  shines 
beyond  the  student's  reach,  his  inimitable  model.  Let  him  try 
as  he  please,  he  is  still  sure  of  failure;  and  it  is  an  old  and  very 
true  saying  that  failure  is  the  only  highroad  to  success. 

Form  the  Reference-Book  Habit 

Do  not  be  content  with  your  general  knowledge  of  a 
word — ^press  your  study  until  you  have  mastered  its  in- 
dividual shades  of  meaning  and  usage.  Mere  fluency  is 
sure  to  become  despicable,  but  accuracy  never.  The 
dictionary  contains  the  crystallized  usage  of  intellectual 
giants.  No  one  who  would  write  effectively  dare  despise  its 
definitions  and  discriminations.  Think,  for  example,  of 
the  different  meanings  of  manUe,  or  model,  or  quantity. 
Any  late  edition  of  an  unabridged  dictionary  is  good,  and 
is  worth  making  sacrifices  to  own. 


Books  of  synonyms  and  antonyms — ^used  cautiously, 
for  there  are  few  perfect  synonyms  in  any  language — ^will 
be  foimd  of  great  help.  Consider  the  shades  of  meanings 
among  such  word-groups  as  Mef^  pecukUor,  defauUer, 
embezzler,  burglar,  yeggman,  robber,  bandit,  marauder, 
pirate,  and  many  more;  or  the  distinctions  among  Hebrew, 
Jew,  Israelite,  and  Semite.  Remember  that  no  book  of 
synonyms  is  trustworthy  unless  used  with  a  dictionary. 
"A  Thesaurus  of  the  English  Language,"  by  Dr.  Francis 
A.  March,  is  expensive,  but  full  and  authoritative.  Of 
smaller  books  of  s3nionyms  and  antonyms  there  are  plenty.^ 

Study  the  connectives  of  English  speech.  Fernald's 
book  on  this  title  is  a  mine  of  gems.  Unsuspected  pit- 
falls lie  in  the  loose  use  of  and,  or,  for,  while,  and  a  score 
of  tricky  little  connectives. 

Word  derivations  are  rich  in  suggestiveness.  Our 
English  owes  so  much  to  foreign  tongues  and  has  changed 
so  much  with  the  centuries  that  whole  addresses  may  grow 
out  of  a  single  root-idea  hidden  away  in  an  ancient  word- 
origin.  Translation,  also,  is  excellent  exercise  in  word- 
mastery  and  consorts  well  with  the  study  of  derivations. 

Phrase  books  that  show  the  origins  of  familiar  expres- 
sions will  surprise  most  of  us  by  showing  how  carelessly 
everyday  speech  is  used.  Brewer's  "A  Dictionary  of 
Phrase,  and  Fable,"  Edwards'  "Words,  Facts,  and 
Phrases,"  and  Thornton's  "An  American  Glossary,"  are 
all  good — the  last,  an  expensive  work  in  three  volumes. 

A  prefix  or  a  suffix  may  essentially  change  the  force  of 

1 A  book  of  BynoDyms  and  Antonsrma  is  in  prenMuration  tat  this  Miiet,  "The 
Writer's  libmy/* 


the  stem,  as  in  master-ful  and  master4y,  contempl-Me  and 
carUempt-uous,  envi-aus  and  eiwi-able.  Thus  to  study  words 
in  groups,  according  to  their  stems,  prefixes,  and  suffixes, 
is  to  gain  a  mastery  over  their  shades  of  meaning,  and 
introduce  us  to  other  related  words. 

Do  not  Favor  one  Set  or  Kind  of  Words  more  than  Another 

"  Sixty  years  and  more  ago.  Lord  Brougham,  addressing 
the  students  of  the  University  of  Glasgow,  laid  down  the 
rule  that  the  native  (Anglo-Saxon)  part  of  our  vocabulary 
was  to  be  favored  at  the  expense  of  that  other  part  which 
has  come  from  the  Latin  and  Greek.  The  rule  was  an 
impossible  one,  and  Lord  Brougham  himself  never  tried 
seriously  to  observe  it;  nor,  in  truth,  has  any  great  writer 
made  the  attempt.  Not  only  is  our  language  highly  com- 
posite, but  the  component  words  have,  in  De  Quincey's 
phrase,  'happily  coalesced.'  It  is  easy  to  jest  at  words  in 
'Osity  and  -ation,  as  'dictionary'  words,  and  the  like.  But 
even  Lord  Brougham  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
dispense  with  pomposity  and  imagination"^ 

The  short,  vigorous  Anglo-Saxon  will  always  be  pre- 
ferred for  passages  of  special  thrust  and  force,  just  as  the 
Latin  will  continue  to  furnish  us  with  flowing  and  smooth 
expressions;  to  mingle  all  sorts,  however,  will  give  variety 
— and  that  is  most  to  be  desired. 

Discuss  Words  With  Those  Who  Know  Them 

Since  the  language  of  the  platform  follows  closely  the 
diction  of  everyday  speech,  many  useful  words  may  be 

HUompontion  €md  Rhetoriet  J*  M.  Hart. 


acquired  in  conversation  with  cultivated  men,  and  when 
such  discussion  takes  the  form  of  disputation  as  to  the 
meanings  and  usages  of  words,  it  will  prove  doubly 
valuable.  The  development  of  word-power  marches  with 
the  growth  of  individuality. 

Search  FaUhfutty  far  the  Right  Ward 

Books  of  reference  are  tripled  in  value  when  their  owner 
has  a  passion  for  getting  the  kernels  out  of  their  shells.  Ten 
minutes  a  day  will  do  wonders  for  the  nut-cracker.  "I  am 
growing  so  peevish  about  my  writing,"  says  Flaubert. 
''I  am  like  a  man  whose  ear  is  true,  but  who  plays  falsely 
on  the  violin:  his  fingers  refuse  to  reproduce  precisely 
those  sounds  of  which  he  has  the  inward  sense.  Then  the 
tears  come  rolling  down  from  the  poor  scraper's  eyes  and 
the  bow  falls  from  his  hand." 

The  same  brilliant  Frenchman  sent  this  sound  advice 
to  his  pupil,  Guy  de  Maupassant:  "Whatever  may  be 
the  thing  which  one  wishes  to  say,  there  is  but  one  word 
for  expressing  it,  only  one  verb  to  animate  it,  only  one 
adjective  to  qualify  it.  It  is  essential  to  search  for  this 
word,  for  this  verb,  for  this  adjective,  until  they  are  dis- 
covered, and  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing  else." 

Walter  Savage  Landor  once  wrote:  "I  hate  false  words, 
and  seek  with  care,  difficulty,  and  moroseness  those  that 
fit  the  thing."  So  did  Sentimental  Tommy,  as  related  by 
James  M.  Barrie  in  his  novel  bearing  his  hero's  name  as 
a  title.  No  wonder  T.  Sandys  became  an  author  and  a 

Tonuny,  with  another  lad,  is  writing  an  essay  on  "A 


Day  in  Church,"  in  competition  for  a  university  scholar- 
ship. He  gets  on  finely  until  he  pauses  for  lack  of  a  word. 
For  nearly  an  hour  he  searches  for  this  elusive  thing,  until 
suddenly  he  is  told  that  the  allotted  time  is  up,  and  he 
has  lost!   Barrie  may  tell  the  rest: 

Essay!  It  was  no  more  an  essay  than  a  twig  is  a  tree,  for  the 
gowk  had  stuck  in  the  middle  of  his  second  page.  Yes,  stuck  is 
the  right  expression,  as  his  chagrined  teacher  had  to  admit  when 
the  boy  was  cross-examined.  He  had  not  been  "up  to  some  of 
his  tricks;  '*  he  had  stuck,  and  his  explanations,  as  you  will  admit, 
merely  emphasized  his  incapacity. 

He  had  brought  himself  to  public  scorn  for  lack  of  a  word. 
What  word?  they  asked  testily;  but  even  now  he  could  not  tell. 
He  had  wanted  a  Scotch  word  that  would  signify  how  many 
people  were  in  church,  and  it  was  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  but 
would  come  no  farther.  Puckle  was  nearly  the  word,  but  it  did 
not  mean  so  many  people  as  he  meant.  The  hour  had  gone  by 
just  like  winking;  he  had  forgotten  all  about  time  while  search- 
ing his  mind  for  the  word. 

The  other  five  [examiners]  were  furious.  .  .  .  "You  little 
tattie  doolie,"  Cathro  roared,  "were  there  not  a  dozen  words 
to  wile  from  if  you  had  an  ill-will  to  puckle?  What  ailed  you 
at  manzy,  or — " 

"I  thought  of  manzy,"  replied  Tonmiy,  woefully,  for  he  was 
ashamed  of  himself,  "but — ^but  a  manzy 's  a  swarm.  It  would 
mean  that  the  folk  in  the  kirk  were  buzzing  thegither  like  bees, 
instead  of  sitting  still." 

"  Even  if  it  does  mean  that,"  said  Mr.  Duthie,  with  impatience, 
"what  was  the  need  of  being  so  particular?  Surely  the  art  of 
essay-writing  consists  in  using  the  first  word  that  comes  and 
hurrying  on." 

"That's  how  I  did,"  said  the  proud  McLauchlan  [Tommy's 
successful  competitor].     .    .    . 

"I  see,"  interposed  Mr.  Gloag,  "that  McLauchlan  speaks  of 
there  being  a  mask  of  people  in  the  church.  Mask  is  a  fine  Scotch 


"I  thought  of  mask/*  whimpered  Tommy,  "but  that  would 
mean  the  kirk  was  crammed,  and  I  just  meant  it  to  be  middling 

"Plow  would  have  done,"  suggested  Mr.  Lorrimer. 

"Plow's  but  a  handful,"  said  Tonuny. 

"Curran,  then,  you  jackanapes!" 

"Curran's  no  enough." 

Mr.  Lorrimer  fltmg  up  his  hands  in  despair. 

"  I  wanted  something  between  curran  and  mask,"  said  Tommy, 
doggedly,  yet  almost  at  the  crying. 

Mr.  Ogilvy,  who  had  been  hiding  his  admiration  with  difficulty, 
spread  a  net  for  him.  "You  said  you  wanted  a  word  that  meant 
middling  full.  Well,  why  did  you  not  say  middling  full — or 

"Yes,  why  not?"  demanded  the  ministers,  unconsciously 
caught  in  the  net. 

"I  wanted  one  word,"  replied  Tommy,  unconsciously  avoid- 
ing it. 

"You  jewel!"  muttered  Mr.  Ogilvy  under  his  breath,  but 
Mr.  Cathro  would  have  banged  the  boy's  head  had  not  the 
ministers  interfered. 

"  It  is  so  easy,  too,  to  find  the  right  word,"  said  Mr.  Gloag. 

"It's  no;  it's  difficult  as  to  hit  a  squirrel,"  cried  Tommy, 
and  again  Mr.  Ogilvy  nodded  approval. 

And  then  an  odd  thing  happened.  As  they  were  preparing  to 
leave  the  school  [Cathro  having  previously  run  Tommy  out  by 
the  neck],  the  door  opened  a  little  and  there  appeared  in  the 
aperture  the  face  of  Tommy,  tear-stained  but  excited.  "I  ken 
the  word  now,"  he  cried,  "it  came  to  me  a*  at  once;  it  is  hantle! " 

Mr.  Ogilvy  ....  said  in  an  ecstasy  to  himself,  "He 
had  to  think  of  it  till  he  got  it — ^and  he  got  it.  The  laddie 
is  a  genius!" 


1.  What  is  the  derivation  of  the  word  vocabulary? 

2.  Briefly  discuss  any  complete  speech  given  in  this 


volume,  with  reference  to  (a)  exactness,  (b)  variety,  and 
(c)  charm,  in  the  use  of  words. 

3.  Give  original  examples  of  the  kinds  of  word-studies 
referred  to  on  pages  337  and  338. 

4.  Deliver  a  short  talk  on  any  subject,  using  at  least 
five  words  which  have  not  been  previously  in  your  "djma- 
mic"  vocabulary. 

5.  Make  a  list  of  the  unfamiliar  words  found  in  any 
address  you  may  select. 

6.  Deliver  a  short  extemporaneous  speech  giving 
your  opinions  on  the  merits  and  demerits  of  the  use  of 
unusual  words  in  public  speaking. 

7.  Try  to  find  an  example  of  the  over-use  of  unusual 
words  in  a  speech. 

8.  Have  you  used  reference  books  in  word  studies? 
If  so,  state  with  what  result. 

9.  Find  as  many  synonyms  and  antonyms  as  possible 
for  each  of  the  following  words:  Excess,  Rare,  Severe^ 
Beautiful,  Clear,  Happy,  Difference,  Care,  Skillful,  In- 
volve, Enmity,  Profit,  Absurd,  Evident,  Faint,  Friendly^ 
Harmony,  Hatred,  Honest,  Inherent. 



Lulled  in  the  countless  chambers  of  the  brain, 
Our  thoughts  are  linked  by  many  a  hidden  chain; 
Awake  but  one,  and  lo!  what  myriads  rise! 
Each  stamps  its  image  as  the  other  flies! 


•  ••••••• 

Hail,  memory,  hail !  in  thy  exhausUess  mine 
From  age  to  age  unnumber'd  treasures  shine! 
Thought  and  her  shadowy  brood  thy  call  obey, 
And  Place  and  Time  are  subject  to  thy  sway! 

— Samuel  Rogers,  Pleasures  of  Memory. 

Many  an  orator,  like  Thackeray,  has  made  the  best 
part  of  his  speech  to  himself — on  the  way  home  from  the 
lecture  hall.  Presence  of  mind — ^it  remained  for  Mark 
Twain  to  observe — ^is  greatly  promoted  by  absence  of 
body.  A  hole  in  the  memory  is  no  less  a  common  com- 
plaint than  a  distressing  one. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  was  able  to  deliver  one  of  the 
world's  greatest  addresses  at  Liverpool  because  of  his 
excellent  memory.  In  speaking  of  the  occasion  Mr. 
Beecher  said  that  all  the  events,  arguments  and  appeals 
that  he  had  ever  heard  or  read  or  written  seemed  to  pass 
before  his  mind  as  oratorical  weapons,  and  standing  there 
he  had  but  to  reach  forth  his  hand  and  "seize  the  weapons 
as  they  went  smoking  by."  Ben  Jonson  could  repeat  all 
he  had  written.  Scaliger  memorized  the  Iliad  in  three 
weeks.    Locke  says:    "Without  memory,  man  is  a  per- 


petual  infant."  Quintilian  and  Aristotle  regarded  it  as  a 
measure  of  genius. 

Now  all  this  is  very  good.  We  all  agree  that  a  reliable 
memory  is  an  invaluable  possession  for  the  speaker.  We 
never  dissent  for  a  moment  when  we  are  solemnly  told 
that  his  memory  should  be  a  storehouse  from  which  at 
pleasure  he  can  draw  facts,  fancies,  and  illustrations.  But 
can  the  memory  be  trained  to  act  as  the  warder  for  all  the 
truths  that  we  have  gained  from  thinking,  reading,  and 
experience?   And  if  so,  how?   Let  us  see. 

Twenty  years  ago  a  poor  immigrant  boy,  employed  as  a 
dish  washer  in  New  York,  wandered  into  the  Cooper 
Union  and  began  to  read  a  copy  of  Henry  George's 
"Progress  and  Poverty."  His  passion  for  knowledge  was 
awakened,  and  he  became  a  habitual  reader.  But  he 
foimd  that  he  was  not  able  to  remember  what  he  read,  so 
he  b^an  to  train  his  naturally  poor  memory  until  he 
became  the  world's  greatest  memory  expert.  This  man 
was  the  late  Mr.  Felix  Berol.  Mr.  Berol  could  tell  the 
population  of  any  town  in  the  world,  of  more  than  five 
thousand  inhabitants.  He  could  recall  the  names  of  forty 
strangers  who  had  just  been  introduced  to  him  and  was 
able  to  tell  which  had  been  presented  third,  eighth, 
seventeenth,  or  in  any  order.  He  knew  the  date  of  every 
important  event  in  history,  and  could  not  only  recall  an 
endless  array  of  facts  but  could  correlate  them  perfectly. 

To  what  extent  Mr.  Berol's  remarkable  memory  was 
natural  and  required  only  attention,  for  its  develc^ment, 
seems  impossible  to  deteraune  with  exactness,  but  the 
evidence   clearly  indicates  that,  however   usdess  were 


many  of  his  memory  feats,  a  highly  retentive  memory 

was  developed  where  before  only  "a  good  foigettery" 


The  freak  memory  is  not  worth  striving  for,  but  a  good 

working  memory  decidedly  is.    Your  power  as  a  speaker 

will  depend  to  a  large  extent  upon  your  ability  to  retain 

impressions  and  caU  them  forth  when  occasion  demands, 

and  that  sort  of  memory  is  like  muscle — ^it  responds  to 


Wk(U  Not  to  Do 

It  is  sheer  misdirected  effort  to  begin  to  memorize  by 
learning  words  by  rote,  for  that  is  beginning  to  build  a 
pyramid  at  the  apex.  For  years  oiu*  schools  were  cursed 
by  this  vicious  S3rstem — ^vidous  not  only  because  it  is 
inefficient  but  for  the  more  important  reason  that  it  hurts 
the  mind.  True,  some  minds  are  natively  endowed  with 
a  wonderful  facility  in  remembering  strings  of  words, 
facts,  and  figures,  but  such  are  rarely  good  reasoning 
minds;  the  normal  person  must  belabor  and  force  the 
memory  to  acquire  in  this  artificial  way. 

Again,  it  is  hurtful  to  force  the  memory  in  hours  of 
physical  weakness  or  mental  weariness.  Health  is  the 
basis  of  the  best  mental  action  and  the  operation  of 
memory  is  no  exception. 

Finally,  do  not  become  a  slave  to  a  system.  Knowledge 
of  a  few  simple  facts  of  mind  and  memory  will  set  you  to 
work  at  the  right  end  of  the  operation.  Use  these  prin- 
ciples, whether  included  in  a  system  or  not,  but  do  not 
bind  yourself  to  a  method  that  tends  to  lay  more  stress 
on  the  way  to  remember  than  on  the  development  of 


memory  itself.    It  is  nothing  short  of  ridiculous  to  memo- 
rize ten  words  in  order  to  remember  one  fact. 

The  Natural  Laws  of  Memory 

Concentrated  attention  at  the  time  when  you  wish  to 
store  the  mind  is  the  first  step  in  memorizing — ^and  the 
most  important  one  by  far.  You  forgot  the  fourth  of  the 
list  of  articles  your  wife  asked  you  to  bring  home  chiefly 
because  you  allowed  yoiu*  attention  to  waver  for  an  instant 
when  she  was  telling  you.  Attention  may  not  be  concen- 
trated attention.  When  a  siphon  is  charged  with  gas  it 
is  sufficiently  filled  with  the  carbonic  add  vapor  to  make 
its  influence  felt;  a  mind  charged  with  an  idea  is 
charged  to  a  degree  sufficient  to  hold  it.  Too  much  charg- 
ing will  make  the  siphon  burst;  too  much  attention  to 
trifles  leads  to  insanity.  Adequate  attention,  then,  is 
the  fundamental  secret  of  remembering. 

Generally  we  do  not  give  a  fact  adequate  attention 
when  it  does  not  seem  important.  Almost  everyone  has 
seen  how  the  seeds  in  an  apple  point,  and  has  memorized 
the  date  of  Washington's  death.  Most  of  us  have — ^per- 
haps wisely — ^forgotten  both.  The  little  nick  in  the  bark 
of  a  tree  is  healed  over  and  obliterated  in  a  season,  but 
the  gashes  in  the  trees  around  Gett3rsburg  are  still  appiarent 
after  fifty  years.  Impressions  that  are  gathered  lightly 
are  soon  obliterated.  Only  deep  impressions  can  be  re- 
called at  will.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  said:  ''One  intense 
hour  will  do  more  than  dreamy  years."  To  memorize 
ideas  and  words,  concentrate  on  them  until  they  are  fixed 
firmly  and  deeply  in  your  mind  and  accord  to  them  their 


true  importance.  Listen  with  the  mind  and  you  will 

How  shall  you  concentrate?  How  would  you  increase 
the  fighting-effectiveness  of  a  man-of-war?  One  vital 
way  would  be  to  increase  the  size  and  number  of  its  guns. 
To  strengthen  your  memory,  increase  both  the  number 
and  the  force  of  your  mental  impressions  by  attending  to 
them  intensely.  Loose,  skimming  reading,  and  drifting 
habits  of  reading  destroy  memory  power.  However,  as 
most  books  and  newspapers  do  not  warrant  any  other 
kind  of  attention,  it  will  not  do  altogether  to  condemn  this 
method  of  reading;  but  avoid  it  when  you  are  tr3dng  to 

Environment  has  a  strong  influence  upon  concentration, 
until  you  have  learned  to  be  alone  in  a  crowd  and  undis- 
turbed by  clamor.  When  you  set  out  to  memorize  a  fact 
or  a  speech,  you  may  find  the  task  easier  away  from  all 
sounds  and  moving  objects.  All  impressions  foreign  to 
the  one  you  desire  to  fix  in  your  mind  must  be  eliminated. 

The  next  great  step  in  memorizing  is  to  pick  out  the 
essentials  of  the  subject,  arrange  them  in  order,  and  dwell 
upon  them  intently.  Think  clearly  of  each  essential,  one 
after  the  other.  Thinking  a  thing — not  allowing  the  mind 
to  wander  to  non-essentials — ^is  really  memorizing. 

Association  of  ideas  is  universally  recognized  as  an 
essential  in  memory  work;  indeed,  whole  systems  of 
memory  training  have  been  founded  on  this  principle. 

Many  speakers  memorize  only  the  outlines  of  their 
addresses,  filling  in  the  words  at  the  moment  of  speaking. 
Some  have  found  it  helpful  to  remember  an  outline  by 


associating  the  different  points  with  objects  in  the  room. 
Speaking  on  "Peace,"  you  may  wish  to  dweU  on  the  cost, 
the  cruelty,  and  the  failure  of  war,  and  so  lead  to  the 
justice  of  arbitration.  Before  going  on  the  platform  if 
you  will  associate  four  divisions  of  your  outline  with  four 
objects  in  the  room,  this  association  may  help  you  to 
recall  them.  You  may  be  prone  to  forget  your  third  point, 
but  you  remember  that  once  when  you  were  speaking  the 
electric  lights  failed,  so  arbitrarily  the  electric  light  globe 
will  help  you  to  remember  "failure."  Such  associations, 
being  unique,  tend  to  stick  in  the  mind.  While  recently 
speaking  on  the  six  kinds  of  imagination  the  present  writer 
formed  them  into  an  acrostic — visual,  audUory,  motor , 
gustatory^  olfactoryy  and  tactile,  furnished  the  nonsense 
word  vamgot,  but  the  six  points  were  easily  remembered. 

In  the  same  way  that  children  are  taught  to  remember 
the  spelling  of  teasing  words — separate  comes  from  separ — 
and  as  an  automobile  driver  remembers  that  two  C's  and 
then  two  H's  lead  him  into  Castor  Road,  Cottman  Street, 
Haynes  Street  and  Henry  Street,  so  important  points  in 
your  address  may  be  fixed  in  mind  by  arbitrary  s3mibols 
invented  by  yourself.  The  very  work  of  devising  the 
scheme  is  a  memory  action.  .  The  psychological  process 
is  simple:  it  is  one  of  noting  intently  the  steps  by  which  a 
fact,  or  a  truth,  or  even  a  word,  has  come  to  you.  Take 
advantage  of  this  tendency  of  the  mind  to  remember  by 

RepeHiion  is  a  powerful  aid  to  memory.  .Thuriow 
Weed,  the  journalist  and  political  leader,  was  troubled 
because  he  so  easily  forgot  the  names  of  persons  he  met 


from  day  to  day.  He  corrected  the  weakness,  relates 
Professor  William  James,  by  forming  the  habit  of  attend- 
ing carefully  to  names  he  had  heard  during  the  day  and 
then  repeating  them  to  his  wife  every  evening.  Doubt- 
less Mrs.  Weed  was  heroically  longsufFering,  but  the 
device  worked  admirably. 

After  reading  a  passage  you  would  remember,  dose  the 
book,  reflect,  and  repeat  the  contents — aloud,  if  possible. 

Reading  thoughtfully  aloud  has  been  foimd  by  many  to 
be  a  helpful  memory  practise. 

Write  what  you  wish  to  remember.  This  is  simply  one 
more  way  of  increasing  the  number  and  the  strength  of 
your  mental  impressions  by  utilizing  aU  yoiu*  avenues  of 
impression.  It  will  help  to  fix  a  speech  in  your  mind  if 
you  speak  it  aloud,  listen  to  it,  write  it  out,  and  look  at  it 
intently.  You  have  then  impressed  it  on  your  mind  by 
means  of  vocal,  auditory,  muscular  and  visual  impressions. 

Some  folk  have  peculiarly  distinct  auditory  memories; 
they  are  able  to  recall  things  heard  much  better  than  things 
seen.  Others  have  the  visual  memory;  they  are  best  able 
to  recall  sight-impressions.  As  you  recall  a  walk  you  have 
taken,  are  you  able  to  remember  better  the  sights  or  the 
sounds?  Find  out  what  kinds  of  impressions  yoiu*  memory 
retains  best,  and  use  them  the  most.  To  fix  an  idea  in 
mind,  use  every  possible  kind  of  impression. 

Daily  habit  is  a  great  memory  cultivator.  Learn  a 
lesson  from  the  Marathon  runner.  R^ular  exercise, 
though  never  so  little  daily,  will  strengthen  your  memory  in 
a  surprising  measure.  Try  to  describe  in  detail  the  dress, 
looks  and  manner  of  the  people  you  pass  on  the  street. 


Observe  the  room  you  are  in,  dose  your  eyes,  and  describe 
its  contents.  View  closely  the  landscape,  and  write  out 
a  detailed  description  of  it.  How  much  did  you  miss? 
Notice  the  contents  of  the  show  windows  on  the  street; 
how  many  features  are  you  able  to  recall?  Continual 
practise  in  this  feat  may  develop  in  you  as  remarkable 
proficiency  as  it  did  in  Robert  Houdin  and  his  son. 

The  daily  memorizing  of  a  beautiful  passage  in  litera- 
tiu'e  will  not  only  lend  strength  to  the  memory,  but  will 
store  the  mind  with  gems  for  quotation.  But  whether 
by  little  or  much  add  daily  to  your  memory  power  by 

Memorize  <nU  of  doors.  The  buoyancy  of  the  wood,  the 
shore,  or  the  stormy  night  on  deserted  streets  may  freshen 
your  mind  as  it  does  the  minds  of  countless  others. 

Lastly,  cast  out  fear.  Tell  yourself  that  you  can  and 
wUl  and  do  remember.  By  pure  exercise  of  selfism  assert 
your  mastery.  Be  obsessed  with  the  fear  of  forgetting 
and  you  cannot  remember.  Practise  the  reverse.  Throw 
aside  your  manuscript  crutches — ^you  may  timible  once 
or  twice,  but  what  matters  that,  for  you  are  going  to 
learn  to  walk  and  leap  and  run. 

Memorizing  a  Speech 

Now  let  us  try  to  put  into  practise  the  foregoing  sug- 
gestions. First,  reread  this  chapter,  noting  the  nine  ways 
by  which  memorizing  may  be  helped. 

Then  read  over  the  following  selection  from  Beecher, 
applying  so  many  of  the  suggestions  as  are  practicable. 
Get  the  spirit  of  the  selection  firmly  in  your  mind.    Make 


mental  note  of — ^write  down,  if  you  must — the  succession 
of  ideas.  Now  memorize  the  thought.  Then  memorize 
the  outline,  the  order  in  which  the  different  ideas  are 
expressed.    Finally,  memorize  the  exact  wording. 

No,  when  you  have  done  all  this,  with  the  most  faith- 
ful attention  to  directions,  you  will  not  find  memorizing 
easy,  unless  you  have  previously  trained  yoiu*  memeory,  or 
it  is  naturally  retentive.  Only  by  constant  practise  will 
memory  become  strong  and  only  by  continually  observing 
these  same  principles  will  it  remain  strong.  You  will, 
however,  have  made  a  beginning,  and  that  is  no  mean 


I  do  not  suppose  that  if  you  were  to  go  and  look  upon  the 
experiment  of  self-government  in  America  you  would  have  a 
very  high  opinion  of  it.  I  have  not  either,  if  I  just  look  upon  the 
surface  of  things.  Why,  men  will  say:  " It  stands  to  reason  that 
60,000,000  ignorant  of  law,  ignorant  of  constitutional  history, 
ignorant  of  jurisprudence,  of  finance,  and  taxes  and  tariffs  and 
forms  of  currency — 60,000,000  people  that  never  studied  these 
things — ^are  not  fit  to  rule.  Your  diplomacy  is  as  complicated 
as  ours,  and  it  is  the  most  complicated  on  earth,  for  all  things 
grow  in  complexity  as  they  develop  toward  a  higher  condition. 
What  fitness  is  there  in  these  people?  Well,  it  is  not  democracy 
merely;  it  is  a  representative  democracy.  Our  people  do  not 
vote  in  mass  for  anything;  they  pick  out  captains  of  thought, 
they  pick  out  the  men  that  do  know,  and  they  send  them  to  the 
Legislature  to  think  for  them,  and  then  the  people  afterward 
ratify  or  disallow  them. 

But  when  you  come  to  the  Legislature  I  am  botmd  to  confess 
that  the  thing  does  not  look  very  much  more  cheering  on  the 
outside.  Do  they  really  select  the  best  men?  Yes;  in  times  of 
danger  they  do  very  generally,  but  in  ordinary  time,  "kissing 
goes  by  favor."  You  know  what  the  duty  of  a  regular  Republican- 


Democratic  legislator  is.  It  is  to  get  back  again  next  winter. 
His  second  duty  is  what?  His  second  duty  is  to  put  himself  under 
that  extraordinary  providence  that  takes  care  of  legislators* 
salaries.  The  old  miracle  of  the  prophet  and  the  meal  and  the 
oil  is  outdone  immeasurably  in  our  days,  for  they  go  there  poor 
one  year,  and  go  home  rich;  in  four  years  they  become  money- 
lenders, all  by  a  trust  in  that  gracious  providence  that  takes  care 
of  legislators'  salaries.  Their  next  duty  after  that  is  to  serve  the 
party  that  sent  them  up,  and  then,  if  there  is  anything  left  of 
them,  it  belongs  to  the  commonwealth.  Someone  has  said  very 
wisely,  that  if  a  man  traveling  wishes  to  relish  his  dinner  he  had 
better  not  go  into  the  kitchen  to  see  where  it  is  cooked;  if  a 
man  wishes  to  respect  and  obey  the  law,  he  had  better  not  go 
to  the  Legislature  to  see  where  that  is  cooked. 

Henry  Ward  Bbbcher. 
Prom  a  lecture  delivered  in  Exeter  HaU,  London, 
1886,  when  making  his  last  tour  of  Great  Britain. 

In  Case  of  Trouble 

But  what  are  you  to  do  if,  notwithstanding  all  your 
efforts,  you  should  forget  your  points,  and  your  mind,  for 
the  minute,  becomes  blank?  This  is  a  deplorable  oondi- 
tion  that  sometimes  arises  and  must  be  dealt  with.  Ob- 
viously, you  can  sit  down  and  admit  defeat.  Such  a 
consununation  is  devoutly  to  be  shunned. 

Walking  slowly  across  the  platform  may  give  you  time 
to  grip  yourself,  compose  your  thoughts,  and  stave  off 
disaster.  Perhaps  the  siu'est  and  most  practical  method 
is  to  b^n  a  new  sentence  with  yoiu*  last  important  word. 
This  is  not  advocated  as  a  method  of  composing  a  speech — 
it  is  merely  an  extreme  measure  which  may  save  you  in 
tight  circumstances.  It  is  like  the  fire  department — ^the 
less  you  must  use  it  the  better.  If  this  method  is  followed 
very  long  you  are  likely  to  find  yourself  talking  about 


plum  pudding  or  Chinese  Gordon  in  the  most  unexpected 
manner,  so  of  course  you  will  get  back  to  your  lines  the 
earliest  moment  that  your  feet  have  hit  the  platform. 

Let  us  see  how  this  plan  works — obviously,  your  ex- 
temporized words  will  lack  somewhat  of  polish,  but  in 
such  a  pass  crudity  is  better  than  failure. 

Now  you  have  come  to  a  dead  wall  after  saying:  "Joan 
of  Arc  fought  for  liberty."  By  this  method  you  might 
get  something  like  this: 

"Liberty  is  a  sacred  privilege  for  which  mankind  always 
had  to  fight.  These  struggles  [Platitude — but  push  on] 
fill  the  pages  of  history.  History  records  the  gradual 
triumph  of  the  serf  over  the  lord,  the  slave  over  the  master. 
The  master  has  continually  tried  to  usurp  unlimited 
powers.  Power  during  the  medieval  ages  accrued  to  the 
owner  of  the  land  with  a  spear  and  a  strong  castle;  but 
the  strong  castle  and  spear  were  of  little  avail  after  the 
discovery  of  gtmpowder.  Gimpowder  was  the  greatest 
boon  that  liberty  had  ever  known." 

Thus  far  you  have  linked  one  idea  with  another  rather 
obviously,  but  you  are  getting  your  second  wind  now  and 
may  venture  to  relax  your  grip  on  the  too-evident  chain; 
and  so  you  say: 

"With  gunpowder  the  humblest  serf  in  all  the  land 
could  put  an  end  to  the  life  of  the  t3rrannical  baron  behind 
the  castle  walls.  The  struggle  for  liberty,  with  gunpowder 
as  its  aid,  wrecked  empires,  and  built  up  a  new  era  for  all 

In  a  moment  more  you  have  gotten  back  to  your  outline 
and  the  day  is  saved. 



Practismg  exercises  like  the  above  will  not  only  fortify 
you  against  the  death  of  your  speech  when  your  memory 
misses  fire,  but  it  will  also  provide  an  excellent  training 
for  fluency  in  speaking.   Stock  up  wUh  ideas. 


1 .  Pick  out  and  state  briefly  the  nine  helps  to  memoriz- 
ing suggested  in  this  chi^ter. 

2.  Report  on  whatever  success  you  may  have  had 
with  any  of  the  plans  for  memory  culture  suggested  in 
this  chapter.    Have  any  been  less  successful  than  others? 

3.  Freely  criticise  any  of  the  suggested  methods. 

4.  Give  an  original  example  of  memory  by  association 
of  ideas. 

5.  List  in  order  the  chief  ideas  of  any  speech  in  this 

6.  Repeat  them  from  memory. 

7.  Expand  them  into  a  speech,  using  yoiu*  own  words. 

8.  Illustrate  practically  what  would  you  do,  if  in  the 
midst  of  a  speech  on  Progress,  yoiu*  memory  failed  you 
and  you  stopped  suddenly  on  the  following  sentence: 
"The  last  century  saw  marvelous  progress  in  varied  lines 
of  activity." 

9.  How  many  quotations  that  fit  well  in  the  speaker's 
tool  chest  can  you  recall  from  memory? 

10.  Memorize  the  poem  on  page  42.  How  much  time 
does  it  require? 



Whatever  crushes  individuality  is  despotism,  by  whatever 
name  it  may  be  called. — ^John  Stuart  Mnx,  On  Liberty. 

Right  thinking  fits  for  complete  living  by  developing  the 
power  to  appreciate  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  art,  power  to 
think  the  true  and  to  will  the  good,  power  to  live  the  Jife  of 
thought,  and  faith,  and  hope,  and  love. 

— N.  C.  SCHAEPFER,  Thinking  and  Learning  to  Think, 

The  speaker's  most  valuable  possession  is  personality — 
that  indefinable,  imponderable  something  which  sums  up 
what  we  are,  and  makes  us  difPerent  from  others;  that 
distinctive  force  of  self  which  operates  appreciably  on 
those  whose  lives  we.  touch.  It  is  personality  alone  that 
makes  us  long  for  higher  things.  Rob  us  of  our  sense  of 
individual  life,  with  its  gains  and  losses,  its  duties  and 
joys,  and  we  grovel.  "Few  human  creatures,"  says 
John  Stuart  Mill,  "would  consent  to  be  changed  into  any 
of  the  lower  animals  for  a  promise  of  the  fullest  allowance 
of  a  beast's  pleasures;  no  intelligent  htmian  being  would 
consent  to  be  a  fool,  no  instructed  person  would  be  an 
ignoramus,  no  person  of  feeling  and  conscience  would  be 
selfish  and  base,  even  though  he  should  be  persuaded  that 
the  fool,  or  the  dunce,  or  the  rascal  is  better  satisfied  with 
his  lot  than  they  with  theirs.  ...  It  is  better  to  be  a 
himmn  being  dissatisfied  than  a  pig  satisfied,  better  to  be 
a  Socrates  dissatisfied  than  a  fool  satisfied.    And  if  the 

356         THE  ART  OF  PUBUC  SPEAKING 

fool  or  the  pig  is  of  a  different  opinion,  it  is  only  because 
they  know  only  their  own  side  of  the  question.  The  other 
party  to  the  comparison  knows  both  sides." 

Now  it  is  precisely  because  the  Socrates  type  of  person 
lives  on  the  plan  of  right  thinking  and  restrained  feeling 
and  willing  that  he  prefers  his  state  to  that  of  the  animal. 
All  that  a  man  is,  all  his  happiness,  his  sorrow,  his  achieve- 
ments, his  failures,  his  magnetism,  his  weakness,  all  are 
in  an  amazingly  large  measure  the  direct  results  of  his 
thinking.  Thought  and  heart  combine  to  produce  right 
thinking:  "As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart  so  is  he."  As 
he  does  not  think  in  his  heart  so  he  can  never  become. 

Since  this  is  true,  personality  can  be  developed  and  its 
latent  powers  brought  out  by  careful  cultivation.  We 
have  long  since  ceased  to  believe  that  we  are  living  in  a 
realm  of  chance.  So  clear  and  exact  are  nature's  laws 
that  we  forecast,  scores  of  years  in  advance,  the  appearance 
of  a  certain  comet  and  foretell  to  the  minute  an  edipse  of 
the  Sun.  And  we  understand  this  law  of  cause  and  effect 
in  all  our  material  realms.  We  do  not  plant  potatoes  and 
expect  to  pluck  hyacinths.  The  law  is  universal:  it 
applies  to  our  mental  powers,  to  morality,  to  personality, 
quite  as  much  as  to  the  heavenly  bodies  and  the  grain  of 
the  fields.  ''Whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall  he  also 
reap,"  and  nothing  else. 

Character  has  always  been  r^arded  as  one  of  the  chief 
factors  of  the  speaker's  power.  Cato  defined  the  orator 
as  tir  bonus  dicendi  peritus — a  good  man  skilled  in  speaking. 
Phillips  Brooks  says:  "Nobody  can  truly  stand  as  an 
utterer  before  the  world,  unless  he  be  profoundly  living 


and  earnestly  thinking."  " Character/'  says  Emerson,  ''is 
a  natural  power,  like  light  and  heat,  and  all  nature  co- 
operates with  it.  The  reason  why  we  feel  one  man's 
presence,  and  do  not  feel  another's  is  as  simple  as  gravity. 
Truth  is  the  sunmiit  of  being:  justice  is  the  application  of 
it  to  affairs.  All  individual  natures  stand  in  a  scale, 
according  to  the  purity  of  this  element  in  them.  The  will 
of  the  pure  runs  down  into  other  natures,  as  water  runs 
down  from  a  higher  into  a  lower  vessel.  This  natural 
force  is  no  more  to  be  withstood  than  any  other  natural 
force.    .    .    .    Character  is  nature  in  the  highest  form." 

It  is  absolutely  impossible  for  impure,  bestial  and  selfish 
thoughts  to  blossom  into  loving  and  altruistic  habits. 
Thistle  seeds  bring  forth  only  the  thistle.  Contrariwise,  it 
is  entirely  impossible  for  continual  altruistic,  S3anpathetic, 
and  serviceful  thoughts  to  bring  forth  a  low  and  vidous 
character.  Either  thoughts  or  feelings  precede  and  de- 
termine all  our  actions.  Actions  develop  into  habits, 
habits  constitute  character,  and  character  determines 
destiny.  Therefore  to  guard  oiu*  thoughts  and  control 
our  feelings  is  to  shape  our  destinies.  The  syllogism  is 
complete,  and  old  as  it  is  it  is  still  true. 

Since  ''character  is  nature  in  the  highest  form,"  the 
development  of  character  must  proceed  on  natural  lines. 
The  garden  left  to  itself  will  bring  forth  weeds  and  scrawny 
plants,  but  the  flower-beds  nurtured  carefully  will  blossom 
into  fragrance  and  beauty. 

As  the  student  entering  collie  largely  determines  his 
vocation  by  choosing  from  the  different  courses  of  the 
curriculum,  so  do  we  choose  oiu*  characters  by  choosing 


our  thoughts.  We  are  steadily  going  up  toward  that 
which  we  most  wish  for,  or  steadily  sinking  to  the  level  of 
our  low  desires.  What  we  secretly  cherish  in  our  hearts 
is  a  sjrmbol  of  what  we  shall  receive.  Our  trains  of  thoughts 
are  hurrying  us  on  to  our  destiny.  When  you  see  the 
flag  fluttering  to  the  South,  you  know  the  wind  is  coming 
from  the  North.  When  you  see  the  straws  and  papers 
being  carried  to  the  Northward  you  realize  the  wind  is 
blowing  out  of  the  South.  It  is  just  as  easy  to  ascertain 
a  man's  thoughts  by  observing  the  tendency  of  his 

Let  it  not  be  suspected  for  one  moment  that  all  this  is 
merely  a  preachment  on  the  question  of  morals.  It  is 
that,  but  much  more,  for  it  touches  the  whole  man — his 
imaginative  nature,  his  ability  to  control  his  feelings,  the 
mastery  of  his  thinking  faculties,  and — ^perhaps  most 
largely — ^his  power  to  will  and  to  carry  his  volitions  into 
effective  action. 

Right  thinking  constantly  assumes  that  the  will  sits 
enthroned  to  execute  the  dictates  of  mind,  conscience  and 
heart.  Never  tolerate  far  an  instant  the  suggestion  thai  your 
will  is  not  absolutely  efficient.  The  way  to  will  is  to  will — 
and  the  very  first  time  you  are  tempted  to  break  a  worthy 
resolution — and  you  will  be,  you  may  be  certain  of  that — 
make  your  fight  then  and  there.  You  cannot  afford  to  lose 
that  fight.  You  must  win  it— don't  swerve  for  an  instant, 
but  keep  that  resolution  if  it  kills  you.  It  will  not,  but 
you  must  fight  just  as  though  life  depended  on  the  victory; 
and  indeed  your  personality  may  actually  lie  in  the 


Your  success  or  failure  as  a  speaker  will  be  detenmned 
very  largely  by  your  thoughts  and  your  mental  atti- 
tude. The  present  writer  had  a  student  of  limited  educa- 
tion enter  one  of  his  classes  in  public  speaking.  He  proved 
to  be  a  very  poor  speaker;  and  the  instructor  could  con- 
scientiously do  little  but  point  out  faults.  However,  the 
young  man  was  warned  not  to  be  discouraged.  With 
sorrow  in  his  voice  and  the  essence  of  earnestness  beaming 
from  his  eyes,  he  replied:  ''I  will  not  be  discouraged!  I 
want  so  badly  to  know  how  to  speak!"  It  was  warm, 
human,  and  from  the  very  heart.  And  he  did  keep  on 
trying — and  developed  into  a  creditable  speaker. 

There  is  no  power  imder  the  stars  that  can  defeat  a  man 
with  that  attitude.  He  who  down  in  the  deeps  of  his 
heart  earnestly  longs  to  get  facility  in  speaking,  and  is 
willing  to  make  the  sacrifices  necessary,  will  reach  his  goal. 
''Ask  and  ye  shall  receive;  seek  and  ye  shall  find;  knock 
and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you,"  is  indeed  applicable  to 
those  who  would  acquire  speech-power.  You  will  not 
realize  the  prize  that  you  wish  for  languidly,  but  the  goal 
that  you  start  out  to  attain  with  the  spirit  of  the  old  guard 
that  dies  but  never  surrenders,  you  will  surely  reach. 

Your  belief  in  your  ability  and  your  willingness  to  make 
sacrifices  for  that  belief,  are  the  double  index  to  your 
future  achievements.  Lincoln  had  a  dream  of  his  possi- 
bilities as  a  speaker.  He  transmuted  that  dream  into  life 
solely  because  he  walked  many  miles  to  borrow  books 
which  he  read  by  the  log-fire  glow  at  night.  He 
sacrificed  much  to  realize  his  vision.  Livingstone  had  a 
great  faith  in  his  ability  to  serve  the  benighted  races  of 


Africa.  To  actualize  that  faith  he  gave  up  all.  Leaving 
England  for  the  interior  of  the  Dark  Continent  he  struck 
the  death  blow  to  Europe's  profits  from  the  slave  trade. 
Joan  of  Arc  had  great  self-confidence,  glorified  by  an 
infinite  capacity  for  sacrifice.  She  drove  the  English 
beyond  the  Loire,  and  stood  beside  Charles  while  he  was 

These  all  realized  their  strongest  desires.  The  law  is 
universal.  Desire  greatly,  and  you  shall  achieve;  sacri- 
fice much,  and  you  shall  obtain. 

Stanton  Davis  Kirkham  has  beautifully  expressed  this 
thought:  "You  may  be  keeping  accounts,  and  presently 
you  shall  walk  out  of  the  door  that  has  for  so  long  seemed 
to  you  the  barrier  of  your  ideals,  and  shall  find  yourself 
before  an  audience — the  pen  still  behind  your  ear,  the  ink 
stains  on  your  fingers — ^and  then  and  there  shall  pour  out 
the  torrent  of  your  inspiration.  You  may  be  driving 
sheep,  and  you  shall  wander  to  the  dty — ^bucolic  and 
open-mouthed;  shall  wander  imder  the  intrepid  guidance 
of  the  spirit  into  the  studio  of  the  master,  and  after  a  time 
he  shall  say, '  I  have  nothing  more  to  teach  you.'  And  now 
you  have  become  the  master,  who  did  so  recently  dream 
of  great  things  while  driving  sheep.  You  shall  lay  down 
the  saw  and  the  plane  to  take  upon  yourself  the  regenera- 
tion of  the  world." 


1.  What,  in  your  own  words,  is  personality? 

2.  How  does  personality  in  a  speaker  affect  you  as  a 



3.  In  what  ways  does  personality  show  itself  in  a 

4.  Deliver  a  short  speech  on  "The  Power  of  Will  in 
the  Public  Speaker." 

5.  Deliver  a  short  address  based  on  any  sentence  you 
choose  from  this  chapter. 




The  perception  of  the  ludicrous  is  a  pledge  of  sanity. 

— Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Essays. 

And  let  him  be  stire  to  leave  other  men  their  turns  to  speak. 
— Francis  Bacon,  Essay  on  CivU  and  Moral  Discourse, 

Perhaps  the  most  brilliant,  and  certainly  the  most 
entertaining,  of  all  speeches  are  those  delivered  on  after- 
dinner  and  other  special  occasions.  The  air  of  weU-fed 
content  in  the  former,  and  of  expectancy  well  primed  in 
the  latter,  furnishes  an  audience  which,  though  not 
readily  won,  is  prepared  for  the  best,  while  the  speaker 
himself  is  pretty  sure  to  have  been  chosen  for  his  gifts  of 

The  first  essential  of  good  occasional  speaking  is  to 
study  the  occasion.  Precisely  what  is  the  object  of  the 
meeting?  How  important  is  the  occasion  to  the  audience? 
How  large  will  the  audience  be?  What  sort  of  people  are 
they?  How  large  is  the  auditorium?  Who  selects  the 
speakers'  themes?  Who  else  is  to  speak?  What  are  they 
to  speak  about?  Precisely  how  long  am  I  to  speak?  Who 
speaks  before  I  do  and  who  follows? 

If  you  want  to  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  ask  such  ques- 
tions as  these.  ^    No  occasional  address  can  succeed  imless 

>6ee  alao  pace  a05. 




it  fits  the  occasion  to  a  T.  Many  prominent  men  have 
lost  prestige  because  they  were  too  careless  or  too.  busy 
or  too  self-confident  to  respect  the  occasion  and  the  audi- 
ence by  learning  the  exact  conditions  under  which  they 
were  to  speak.  Leaving  too  much  to  the  moment  is  taking 
a  long  chance  and  generally  means  a  less  effective  speech, 
if  not  a  failure. 

Suitability  is  the  big  thing  in  an  occasional  speech. 
When  Mark  Twain  addressed  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee 
in  reunion  at  Chicago,  in  1877,  he  responded  to  the  toast, 
"The  Babies."  Two  things  in  that  after-dinner  speech 
are  remarkable:  the  bright  introduction,  by  which  he  ' 
subtly  claimed  the  interest  of  all,  and  the  humorous  use 
of  military  terms  throughout: 

Mr.  Chairman  and  Gentlemen:  "The  Babies.*'  Now,  that's 
something  like.  We  haven't  all  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  ladies; 
we  have  not  all  been  generals,  or  poets,  or  statesmen;  but  when 
the  toast  works  down  to  the  babies,  we  stand  on  conmion  ground 
— for  we've  all  been  babies.  It  is  a  shame  that  for  a  thousand 
years  the  world's  banquets  have  utterly  ignored  the  baby,  as  if 
he  didn't  amount  to  anything!  If  you,  gentlemen,  will  stop  and 
think  a  minute — if  you  will  go  back  fifty  or  a  hundred  years,  to 
your  early  married  life,  and  recontemplate  your  first  baby — ^you 
will  remember  that  he  amounted  to  a  good  deal — and  even  some- 
thing over. 

"As  a  vessel  is  known  by  the  sound,  whether  it  be 
cracked  or  not,"  said  Demosthenes,  "so  men  are  proved 
by  their  speeches  whether  they  be  wise  or  foolish."  Surely 
the  occasional  address  furnishes  a  severe  test  of  a  speaker's 
wisdom.  To  be  trivial  on  a  serious  occasion,  to  be  fimereal 
at  a  banquet,  to  be  long-windedjever — ^these  are  the  marks 


of  lion-sense.  Some  imprudent  souls  seem  to  select  the 
most  friendly  of  after-dinner  occasions  for  the  explosion 
of  a  bc>mb-shell  of  dispute.  Around  the  dinner  table  it  is 
the  custom  of  even  political  enemies  to  bury  their  hatchets 
an3rwhere  rather  than  in  some  convenient  skull.  It  is 
the  height  of  bad  taste  to  raise  questions  that  in  hours 
consecrated  to  good-will  can  only  irritate. 

Occasional  speeches  offer  good  chances  for  humor,  par- 
ticularly the  funny  story,  for  humor  with  a  genuine  point 
is  not  trivial.  But  do  not  spin  a  whole  skein  of  humorous 
yarns  with  no  more  connection  than  the  inane  and  thread- 
bare "And  that  reminds  me."  An  anecdote  without 
bearing  may  be  funny  but  one  less  fimny  that  fits  theme 
and  occasion  is  far  preferable.  There  is  no  way,  short  of 
sheer  power  of  speech,  that  so  surely  leads  to  the  heart  of 
an  audience  as  rich,  appropriate  humor.  The  scattered 
diners  in  a  great  banqueting  hall,  the  after-dinner  lethargy, 
the  anxiety  over  approaching  last-train  time,  the  over- 
full list  of  over-full  speakers — ^all  throw  out  a  challenge 
to  the  speaker  to  do  his  best  to  win  an  interested  hearing. 
And  when  success  does  come  it  is  usually  due  to  a  lu^py 
mixtiire  of  seriousness  and  humor,  for  humor  alone  rarely 
scores  so  heavily  as  the  two  combined,  while  the  utterly 
grave  speech  never  does  on  such  occasions. 

If  there  is  one  place  more  than  another  where  second- 
hand opinions  and  platitudes  are  unwelcome  it  is  in  the 
after-dinner  speech.  Whether  you  are  toast-master  or 
the  last  speaker  to  try  to  hold  the  waning  crowd  at  mid- 
night, be  as  original  as  you  can.  How  is  it  possible  to 
siunmarize  the  qualities  that  go  to  make  up  the  good  after- 


dinner  speech,  when  we  remember  the  inimitable  serious- 
drollery  of  Mark  Twain,  the  sweet  southern  eloquence  of 
Henry  W.  Grady,  the  funereal  gravity  of  the  humorous 
Charles  Battell  Loomis,  the  charm  of  Henry  Van  Dyke, 
the  geniality  of  F.  Hopkinson  Smith,  and  the  all-round 
delightfulness  of  Chauncey  M.  Depew?  America  is 
literally  rich  in  such  gladsome  speakers,  who  pimctuate 
real  sense  with  nonsense,  and  so  make  both  effective. 

Commemorative  occasions,  unveilings,  commencements, 
dedications,  eulogies,  and  all  the  train  of  special  public 
gatherings,  offer  rare  opportunities  for  the  display  of 
tact  and  good  sense  in  handling  occasion,  theme,  and  audi- 
ence. When  to  be  dignified  and  when  colloquial,  when  to 
soar  and  when  to  ramble  arm  in  arm  with  your  hearers, 
when  to  flame  and  when  to  soothe,  when  to  instruct  and 
when  to  amuse — ^in  a  word,  the  whole  matter  of  appro- 
PRIAXENESS  must  Constantly  be  in  mind  lest  you  write 
your  speech  on  water. 

Finally,  remember  the  beatitude:  Blessed  is  the  man 
that  maketh  short  speeches,  for  he  shall  be  invited  to 
speak  again. 




The  Rapidan  suggests  another  scene  to  which  allusion  has 
often  been  made  since  the  war,  but  which,  as  illustrative  also  of 
the  spirit  of  both  armies,  I  may  be  permitted  to  recall  in  this 
connection.  In  the  mellow  twilight  of  an  April  day  the  two 
armies  were  holding  their  dress  parades  on  the  opposite  hills 


bordering  the  river.  At  the  close  of  the  parade  a  magnificent 
brass  band  of  the  Union  army  played  with  great  spirit  the 
patriotic  airs,  *  *  Hail  Columbia,  * '  and  ' '  Yankee  Doodle. ' '  Where- 
upon the  Federal  troops  responded  with  a  patriotic  shout.  The 
same  band  then  played  the  soul-stirring  strains  of  "Dixie,"  to 
which  a  mighty  response  came  from  ten  thousand  Southern 
troops.  A  few  moments  later,  when  the  stars  had  come  out  as 
witnesses  and  when  all  nature  was  in  harmony,  there  came  from 
the  same  band  the  old  melody,  "Home,  Sweet  Home."  As  its 
familiar  and  pathetic  notes  rolled  over  the  water  and  thrilled 
through  the  spirits  of  the  soldiers,  the  hills  reverberated  with  a 
thundering  response  from  the  tmited  voices  of  both  armies.  What 
was  there  in  this  old,  old  music,  to  so  touch  the  chords  of  sym- 
pathy, so  thrill  the  spirits  and  cause  the  frames  of  brave  men  to 
tremble  with  emotion?  It  was  the  thought  of  home.  To  thou- 
sands, doubtless,  it  was  the  thought  of  that  Eternal  Home  to 
which  the  next  battle  might  be  the  gateway.  To  thousands  of 
others  it  was  the  thought  of  their  dear  earthly  homes,  where 
loved  ones  at  that  twilight  hotir  were  bowing  round  the  family 
altar,  and  asking  God*s  care  over  the  absent  soldier  boy. 

— General  J.  B.  Gordon,  C.  S.  A. 



Let  me  ask  you  to  imagine  that  the  contest,  in  which  the 
United  States  asserted  their  independence  of  Great  Britain,  had 
been  unsuccessful;  that  our  armies,  through  treason  or  a  league 
of  tyrants  against  us,  had  been  broken  and  scattered;  that  the 
great  men  who  led  them,  and  who  swayed  our  councils — our 
Washington,  our  Franklin,  and  the  venerable  president  of  the 
American  Congress — ^had  been  driven  forth  as  exiles.  If  there 
had  existed  at  that  day.  in  any  part  of  the  civilized  world,  a 
powerful  Republic,  with  institutions  resting  on  the  same  founda- 
tions of  liberty  which  our  own  countrymen  sought  to  establish, 
would  there  have  been  in  that  Republic  any  hospitality  too 
cordial,  any  sympathy  too  deep,  any  zeal  for  their  glorious  but 
unfortunate  cause,  too  fervent  or  too  active  to  be  shown  toward 


these  illustrious  fugitives?  Gentlemen,  the  case  I  have  supposed 
is  before  you.  The  Washingtons,  the  Franklins,  the  Hancocks 
of  Hungary,  driven  out  by  a  far  worse  tyranny  than  was  ever 
endured  here,  are  wanderers  in  foreign  lands.  Some  of  them  have 
sought  a  refuge  in  our  country — one  sits  with  this  company  our 
guest  to-night — and  we  must  measure  the  duty  we  owe  them  by 
the  same  standard  which  we  would  have  had  history  apply,  if 
our  ancestors  had  met  with  a  fate  like  theirs. 

— William  Cullbn  Bryant. 



When  the  excitement  of  party  warfare  presses  dangerously 
near  our  national  safeguards,  I  would  have  the  intelligent  con- 
servatism of  otir  universities  and  collies  warn  the  contestants 
in  impressive  tones  against  the  perils  of  a  breach  impossible  to 

When  popular  discontent  and  passion  are  stimulated  by  the 
arts  of  designing  partisans  to  a  pitch  perilously  near  to  class 
hatred  or  sectional  anger,  I  would  have  our  universities  and  col- 
leges sound  the  alarm  in  the  name  of  American  brotherhood  and 
fraternal  dependence. 

When  the  attempt  is  made  to  delude  the  people  into  the  belief 
that  their  suffrages  can  change  the  operation  of  national  laws,  I 
would  have  our  tmiversities  and  colleges  proclaim  that  those 
laws  are  inexorable  and  far  removed  from  political  control. 

When  selfish  interest  seeks  undue  private  benefits  through 
governmental  aid,  and  public  places  are  claimed  as  rewards  of 
party  service,  I  would  have  our  universities  and  colleges  persuade 
the  people  to  a  relinquishment  of  the  demand  for  party  spoils 
and  exhort  them  to  a  disinterested  and  patriotic  love  of  their 
government,  whose  unperverted  operation  secures  to  every  citizen 
his  just  share  of|the  safety  and  prosperity  it  holds  in  store  for  all. 

I  would  have  the  influence  of  these  institutions  on  the  side  of 
religion  and  morality.  I  would  have  those  they  send  out  among 
the  people  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge  God,  and  to  proclaim 
His  interposition  in  the  affairs  of  men,  enjoining  such  obedience 
to  His  laws  as  makes  manifest  the  path  of  national  perpetuity 


and  prosperity — Grover  Cleveland,  delivered  at  the  Prinoeton 
Sesqui-Centennial,  1896. 



Great  in  life,  he  was  surpassingly  great  in  death.  For  no 
cause,  in  the  very  frenzy  of  wantonness  and  wickedness,  by  the 
red  hand  of  murder,  he  was  thrust  from  the  full  tide  of  this 
world's  interest,  from  its  hopes,  its  aspirations,  its  victories,  into 
the  visible  presence  of  death — and  he  did  not  quail.  Not  alone 
for  the  one  short  moment  in  which,  stunned  and  dazed,  he  could 
give  up  life,  hardly  aware  of  its  relinquishment,  but  through  days 
of  deadly  languor,  through  weeks  of  agony,  that  was  not  less 
agony  because  silently  borne,  with  dear  sight  and  calm  courage, 
he  looked  into  his  open  grave.  What  blight  and  ruin  met  his 
anguished  eyes,  whose  lips  may  tell — ^what  brilliant,  broken 
plans,  what  baffled,  high  ambitions,  what  sundering  of  strong, 
warm,  manhood's  friendships,  what  bitter  rending  of  sweet 
household  ties!  Behind  him  a  proud,  expectant  nation,  a  great 
host  of  sustaining  friends,  a  cherished  and  happy  mother,  wear- 
ing the  full  rich  honors  of  her  early  toil  and  tears;  the  wife  of 
his  youth,  whose  whole  life  lay  in  his;  the  little  boys  not  yet 
emerged  from  childhood's  day  of  frolic;  the  fair  young  daughter; 
the  sturdy  sons  just  springing  into  closest  companionship,  claim- 
ing every  day  and  every  day  rewarding  a  father's  love  and  care; 
and  in  his  heart  the  eager,  rejoicing  power  to  meet  all  demand. 
Before  him,  desolation  and  great  darkness!  And  his  soul  was 
not  shaken.  His  countrymen  were  thrilled  with  instant,  pro- 
f otmd  and  universal  sympathy.  Masterful  in  his  mortal  weak- 
ness, he  became  the  centre  of  a  nation's  love,  enshrined  in  the 
prayers  of  a  world.  But  all  the  love  and  all  the  ssrmpathy  could 
not  share  with  him  his  suffering.  He  trod  the  wine  press  alone. 
With  unfaltering  front  he  faced  death.  With  unfailing  tender- 
ness he  took  leave  of  life.  Above  the  demoniac  hiss  of  the 
assassin's  bullet  he  heard  the  voice  of  God.  With  simple  resig- 
nation he  bowed  to  the  Divine  decree. — ^James  G.  Blaine., 
delivered  at  the  memorial  service  held  by  the  U.  S.  Senate  and 
House  of  Representatives. 



At  the  bottom  of  all  trae  heroism  is  unselfishiiess.  Its  crown- 
ing expression  is  sacrifice.  The  world  is  suspicious  of  vatmted 
heroes.  But  when  the  true  hero  has  come,  and  we  know  that 
here  he  is  in  verity,  ah!  how  the  hearts  of  men  leap  forth  to  greet 
him!  how  worshipfully  we  welcome  God's  noblest  work — ^the 
strong,  honest,  fearless,  upright  man.  In  Robert  Lee  was  such 
a  hero  vouchsafed  to  us  and  to  mankind,  and  whether  we  behold 
him  declining  command  of  the  federal  army  to  fight  the  battles 
and  share  the  miseries  of  his  own  people;  proclaiming  on  the 
heights  in  front  of  Gettysburg  that  the  fault  of  the  disaster  was 
his  own;  leading  charges  in  the  crisis  of  combat;  walking  under 
the  yoke  of  conquest  without  a  murmur  of  complaint;  or  refusing 
fortune  to  come  here  and  train  the  youth  of  his  country  in  the 
paths  of  duty, — ^he  is  ever  the  same  meek,  grand,  self-sacrificing 
spirit.  Here  he  exhibited  qualities  not  less  worthy  and  heroic 
than  those  displayed  on  the  broad  and  open  theater  of  conflict, 
when  the  eyes  of  nations  watched  his  every  action.  Here  in  the 
calm  repose  of  civil  and  domestic  duties,  and  in  the  trying  routine 
of  incessant  tasks,  he  lived  a  life  as  high  as  When,  day  by  day, 
he  marshalled  and  led  his  thin  and  wasting  lines,  and  slept  by 
night  upon  the  field  that  was  to  be  drenched  again  in  blood  upon 
the  morrow.  And  now  he  has  vanished  from  us  forever.  And 
is  this  all  that  is  left  of  him — ^this  handful  of  dust  beneath  the 
marble  stone?  No!  the  ages  answer  as  they  rise  from  the  gulfs 
of  time,  where  lie  the  wrecks  of  kingdoms  and  estates,  holding 
tip  in  their  hands  as  their  only  trophies,  the  names  of  those  who 
have  wrought  for  man  in  the  love  and  fear  of  God,  and  in  love- 
unfearing  for  their  fellow-men.  No !  the  present  answers,  bending 
by  his  tomb.  No!  the  future  answers  as  the  breath  of  the  morn- 
ing fans  its  radiant  brow,  and  its  soul  drinks  in  sweet  inspirations 
from  the  lovely  life  of  Lee.  No!  methinks  the  very  heavens  echo, 
as  melt  into  their  depths  the  words  of  reverent  love  that  voice 
the  hearts  of  men  to  the  tingling  stars. 

Come  we  then  to-day  in  loyal  love  to  sanctify  our  memories, 
to  purify  our  hopes,  to  make  strong  all  good  intent  by  communion 
with  the  spirit  of  him  who,  being  dead  yet  speaketh.    Come, 


child,  in  thy  spotless  innocence;   come,  woman,  in  thy  purity; 

come,  youth,  in  thy  prime;    come,  manhood,  in  thy  strength; 

come,  age,  in  thy  ripe  wisdom;  come,  citizen;  come,  soldier;  let 

us  strew  the  roses  and  lilies  of  June  around  his  tomb,  for  he,  like 

them,  exhaled  in  his  life  Nature's  beneficence,  and  the  grave  has 

consecrated  that  life  and  given  it  to  us  all;  let  us  crown  his  tomb 

with  the  oak,  the  emblem  of  his  strength,  and  with  the  laurel, 

the  emblem  of  his  glory,  ahd  let  these  guns,  whose  voices  he 

knew  of  old,  awake  the  echoes  of  the  mountains,  that  nature 

herself  may  join  in  his  solemn  requiem.    Come,  for  here  he  rests, 


On  this  green  bank,  by  this  fair  stream. 

We  set  to-day  a  votive  stone. 

That  memory  may  his  deeds  redeem. 

When,  like  our  sires,  our  sons  are  gone. 

— ^JoHN    Warwick    Daniel,    on    the 

unveiling  of  Lee*s  statue  at  Washington  and 

Lee  University,  Lexington,  Viiginia,  1883. 


1.  Why  should  humor  find  a  place  in  after-dinner 

2.  Briefly  give  your  impressions  of  any  notable  after- 
dinner  address  that  you  have  heard. 

3. .  Briefly  outline  an  imaginary  occasion  of  any  sort 
and  give  three  subjects  appropriate  for  addresses. 

4.  Deliver  one  such  address,  not  to  exceed  ten  minutes 
in  length. 

5.  What  proportion  of  emotional  ideas  do  you  find  in 
the  extracts  given  in  this  chapter? 

6.  Humor  was  used  in  some  of  the  foregoing  addresses 
— in  which  others  would  it  have  been  inappropriate? 

7.  Prepare  and  deliver  an  after-dinner  speech  suited 


to  one  of  the  following  occasions,  and  be  sure  to  use  humor : 
A  lodge  banquet. 
A  political  party  dinner. 
A  church  men's  club  dinner. 
A  dvic  association  banquet. 
A  banquet  in  honor  of  a  celebrity. 
A  woman's  club  annual  dinner. 
A  business  men's  association  dinner. 
A  manufacturers'  club  dinner. 
An  alumni  banquet. 
An  old  home  week  barbecue. 



In  conversation  avoid  the  extremes  of  forwardness  and  reserve. 

— Cato. 

Conversation  is  the  laboratory  and  workshop  of  the  student. 

— ^Emerson,  Essays:  Cirdes. 

The  father  of  W.  E.  Gladstone  considered  conversation 
to  be  both  an  art  and  an  accomplishment.  Around  the 
dinner  table  in  his  home  some  topic  of  local  or  national 
interest,  or  some  debated  question,  was  constantly  being 
discussed.  In  this  way  a  friendly  rivalry  for  supremacy 
in  conversation  arose  among  the  family,  and  an  incident 
observed  in  the  street,  an  idea  gleaned  from  a  book,  a 
deduction  from  personal  experience,  was  carefully  stored 
as  material  for  the  family  exchange.  Thus  his  early  years 
of  practise  in  elegant  conversation  prepared  the  younger 
Gladstone  for  his  career  as  a  leader  and  speaker. 

There  is  a  sense  in  which  the  ability  to  converse  effec- 
tively is  efficient  public  speaking,  for  our  conversation  is 
often  heard  by  many,  and  occasionally  decisions  of  great 
moment  hinge  upon  the  tone  and  quality  of  what  we  say 
in  private. 

Indeed,  conversation  in  the  aggregate  probably  wields 
more  power  than  press  and  platform  combined.  Socrates 
taught  his  great  truths,  not  from  public  rostrums,  but  in 
personal  converse.     Men  made  pilgrimages  to  Goethe's 



library  and  Coleridge's  home  to  be  charmed  and  instructed 
by  their  speech,  and  the  culture  of  many  nations  was 
immeasurably  influenced  by  the  thoughts  that  streamed 
out  from  those  rich  well-springs. 

Most  of  the  world-moving  speeches  are  made  in  the 
course  of  conversation.  Conferences  of  diplomats,  busi- 
ness-getting arguments,  decisions  by  boards  of  directors, 
considerations  of  corporate  policy,  all  of  which  influence 
the  political,  mercantile  and  economic  maps  of  the  world, 
are  usually  the  results  of  careful  though  informal  con- 
versation, and  the  man  whose  opinions  weigh  in  such 
crises  is  he  who  has  first  carefully  pondered  the  words 
of  both  antagonist  and  protagonist. 

However  important  it  may  be  to  attain  self-control 
in  light  social  converse,  or  about  the  family  table,  it  is 
undeniably  vital  to  have  oneself  perfectly  in  hand  while 
taking  part  in  a  momentous  conference.  Then  the  hints 
that  we  have  given  on  poise,  alertness,  precision  of  word, 
clearness  of  statement,  and  force  of  utterance,  with  re- 
spect to  public  speech,  are  equally  applicable  to  con- 

The  form  of  nervous  ^otism — ^for  it  is  both — that 
suddenly  ends  in  flusters  just  when  the  vital  words  need 
to  be  uttered,  is  the  sign  of  coming  defeat,  for  a  conversa- 
tion is  often  a  contest.  If  you  feel  this  tendency  embarrass- 
ing you,  be  sure  to  listen  to  Holmes's  advice: 

And  when  you  stick  on  conversational  burs, 
Don't  strew  your  pathway  with  those  dreadful  urs. 

Here  bring  your  will  into  action,  for  your  trouble  is  a 


wandering  attention.  You  must  force  your  mind  to  per- 
sbt  along  the  chosen  line  of  conversation  and  resolutdy 
refuse  to  be  diverted  by  any  subject  or  happening  that 
may  unexpectedly  pop  up  to  distract  you.  To  fail  here 
is  to  lose  effectiveness  utterly. 

Concentration  is  the  keynote  of  conversational  charm 
and  efficiency.  The  haphazard  habit  of  expression  that 
uses  bird-shot  when  a  bullet  is  needed  insures  missing 
the  game,  for  diplomacy  of  all  sorts  rests  upon  the  precise 
application  of  precise  words,  particularly — if  one  may 
paraphrase  Tallyrand — ^in  those  crises  when  language  is 
no  longer  used  to  conceal  thought. 

We  may  frequently  gain  new  light  on  old  subjects  by 
looking  at  word-derivations.  Conversation  signifies  in 
the  original  a  turn-about  exchange  of  ideas,  yet  most 
people  seem  to  r^ard  it  as  a  monologue.  Bronson  Alcott 
used  to  say  that  many  could  argue,  but  few  converse. 
The  first  thing  to  remember  in  conversation,  then,  is  that 
listening — ^respectful,  S3rmpathetic,  alert  listening — ^is  not 
only  due  to  our  fellow  converser  but  due  to  ourselves. 
Many  a  reply  loses  its  point  because  the  speaker  is  so 
much  interested  in  what  he  is  about  to  say  that  it  is  really 
no  reply  at  all  but  merely  an  irritating  and  humiliating 

Self-expression  is  exhilarating.  This  explains  the 
eternal  impulse  to  decorate  totem  poles  and  paint  pic- 
tures, write  poetiy  and  expound  philosophy.  One  of  the 
chief  delights  of  conversation  is  the  opportunity  it  affords 
for  self-expression.  A  good  conversationalist  who  mon(^x>- 
Uzes  all  the  conversation,  will  be  voted  a  bore  because 


he  denies  others  the  enjoyment  of  self-expression,  bridle 
a  mediocre  talker  who  Ustens  interestedly  may  be  con- 
sidered a  good  conversationalist  because  he  permits  his 
companions  to  please  themselves  through  self-expression. 
They  are  praised  who  please:  they  please  who  listen  well. 
The  first  step  in  remed3dng  habits  of  confusion  in  man- 
ner, awkward  bearing,  vagueness  in  thought,  and  lack  of 
precision  in  utterance,  is  to  recognize  your  faults.  If  you 
are  serenely  unconscious  of  them,  no  one — ^least  of  all 
yourself — can  help  you.  But  once  diagnose  your  own 
weaknesses,  and  you  can  overcome  them  by  doing  four 

1.  WILL  to  overcome  them,  and  keep  on  willing. 

2.  Hold  yourself  in  hand  by  assuring  yourself  that  you 
know  precisely  what  you  ought  to  say.  If  you  cannot  do 
that,  be  quiet  until  you  are  clear  on  this  vital  point. 

3.  Having  thus  assured  yourself,  cast  out  the  fear  of 
those  who  listen  to  you — they  are  only  human  and  will 
respect  your  words  if  you  really  have  something  to  say 
and  say  it  briefly,  simply,  and  dearly. 

4.  Have  the  courage  to  study  the  English  language 
until  you  are  master  of  at  least  its  simpler  forms. 

Conversatianal  Hints 

Choose  some  subject  that  will  prove  of  general  interest 
to  the  whole  group.  Do  not  explain  the  mechanism  of  a 
gas  engine  at  an  afternoon  tea  or  the  culture  of  hollyhocks 
at  a  stag  party. 

It  is  not  considered  good  taste  for  a  man  to  bare  his 
arm  in  public  and  show  scars  or  deformities.   It  is  equally 


bad  form  for  bim  to  flaunt  his  own  woes,  or  the  defonnity 
of  some  one  else's  character.  The  public  demands  plays 
and  stories  that  end  hi^pily.  All  the  worid  is  seeing 
happiness.  They  cannot  long  be  interested  in  your  ills 
and  troubles.  George  Cohan  made  himself  a  millionaire 
before  he  was  thirty  by  writing  cheerful  plays.  One  of 
his  rules  is  generally  applicable  to  conversation:  "Always 
leave  them  laughing  when  you  say  good  bye." 

Dynamite  the  "I"  out  of  yoiu:  conversation.  Not  one 
man  in  nine  hundred  and  seven  can  talk  about  himself 
without  being  a  bore.  The  man  who  can  perform  that 
feat  can  achieve  marvels  without  talking  about  himsdf , 
so  the  eternal  "I"  is  not  permissible  even  in  his  talk. 

If  you  habitually  build  your  conversation  around  your 
own  interests  it  may  prove  very  tiresome  to  your  listener. 
He  may  be  thinking  of  bird  dogs  or  dry  fly  fishing  while 
you  are  discussing  the  fourth  dimension,  or  the  merits  of 
a  cucumber  lotion.  The*  charming  conversationalist  is 
prepared  to  talk  in  terms  of  his  listener's  interest.  If 
his  listener  spends  his  spare  time  investigating  Guernsey 
cattle  or  agitating  social  reforms,  the  discriminating  con- 
versationalist shapes  his  remarks  accordingly.  Richard 
Washburn  Child  says  he  knows  a  man  of  mediocre  ability 
who  can  charm  men  much  abler  than  himself  when  he 
discusses  electric  lighting.  This  same  man  probably 
would  bore,  and  be  bored,  if  he  were  forced  to  converse 
about  music  or  Madagascar. 

Avoid  platitudes  and  hackneyed  phrases.  If  you 
meet  a  friend  from  Keokuk  on  State  Street  or  on  Pike's 
Peak,  it  is  not  necessary  to  observe:   ''How  small  this 


world  is  after  all!"  This  observation  was  doubtless  made 
prior  to  the  formation  of  Pike's  Peak.  ''This  old  worid 
is  getting  better  every  day."  ''Farmer's  wives  do  not 
have  to  work  as  hard  as  formerly."  "It  is  not  so  much 
the  high  cost  of  living  as  the  cost  of  high  living."  Such 
observations  as  these  ezdte  about  the  same  degree  of 
admiration  as  is  drawn  out  by  the  appearance  of  a  1903- 
modd  touring  car.  If  you  have  nothing  fresh  or  interest- 
ing you  can  always  remain  silent.  How  would  you  like 
to  read  a  newspaper  that  flashed  out  in  bold  headlines 
"Nice  Weather  We  Are  Having,"  or  daily  gave  columns 
to  the  same  old  material  you  had  been  reading  week  after 


1.  Give  a  short  speech  describing  the  conversational 

2.  In  a  few  words  give  yoiu:  idea  of  a  charming  con- 

3.  What  qualities  of  the  orator  should  not  be  used  in 

4.  Give  a  short  hiunorous  delineation  of  the  conversa- 
tional "orade." 

5.  Give  an  account  of  your  first  day  at  observing  con- 
versation around  you. 

6.  Give  an  account  of  one  day's  eflFort  to  improve  your 
own  conversation. 

7.  Give  a  list  of  subjects  you  heard  discussed  during 
any  recent  period  you  may  select. 

8.  What  is  meant  by  "dastic  touch"  in  conversation? 


9.  Make  a  list  of  ''Bromides,"  as  Gdlett  Burgess 
caUs  those  threadbare  expressions  which  ''bore  us  to  ex- 
tinction"— itself  a  Bromide. 

10.  What  causes  a  phrase  to  become  hackneyed? 

11.  Define  the  words,  (a)  trite;  (b)  solecism;  (c) 
colloquialism;  (d)  slang;    {e)  vulgarism;   (/)  neologisnou 

12.  What  constitutes  pretentious  talk? 



Fifty  Questions  for  Debate* 

1.  Has  Labor  Unionism  justified  its  existence? 

2.  Should  all  church  printing  be  brought  out  under  the 
Union  Label? 

3.  Is  the  Open  Shop  a  benefit  to  the  community? 

4.  Should  arbitration  of  industrial  disputes  be  made 

5.  Is  Profit-Sharing  a  solution  of  the  wage  problem? 

6.  Is  a  minimum  wage  law  desirable? 

7.  Should  the  eight-hour  day  be  made  imiversal  in 

8.  Should  the  state  compensate  those  who  sustain 
irreparable  business  loss  because  of  the  enactment  of 
laws  prohibiting  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  intoxi- 
cating drinks? 

9.  Should  public  utilities  be  owned  by  the  mimicipality? 

10.  Should  marginal  trading  in  stocks  be  prohibited? 

11.  Should  the  national  government  establish  a  com- 
pulsory system  of  old-age  insurance  by  taxing  the 
incomes  of  those  to  be  benefited? 

12.  Would  the  triumph  of  socialistic  principles  result  in 
deadening  personal  ambition? 

>Tbe  publiihen  of  thii  volume  will  on  receipt  of  requeet  enoloetng  etamped 
■elf  eddreeeed  envelope,  formurd  a  deeoriptive  list  of  volumes  oonteininc  die- 
iMitone  of  the  art  of  debate,  debatable  queetione,  argumente  pro  and  eon,  00m- 
plete  briefe  and  reference  eouroee  for  debates. 


13.  Is  the  Presidential  System  a  better  form  of  govern- 
ment for  the  United  States  than  the  Pariiamental 

14.  Should  our  Ic^slation  be  shaped  toward  the  gradual 
abandonment  of  the  protective  tariff? 

15.  Should  the  government  of  the  larger  cities  be  vested 
solely  in  a  commission  of  not  more  than  nine  men, 
elected  by  the  voters  at  large? 

16.  Should  national  banks  be  permitted  to  issue,  subject 
to  tax  and  government  supervision,  notes  based  on 
their  general  assets? 

17.  Should  woman  be  given  the  ballot  on  the  present 
basis  of  suffrage  for  men? 

z8.    Should  the  present  basis  of  suffrage  be  restricted? 

19.  Is  the  hope  of  permanent  world-peace  a  delusion? 

20.  Should  the  United  States  send  a  diplomatic  rq>re- 
sentative  to  the  Vatican? 

21.  Should  the  Powers  of  the  world  substitute  an  inter- 
national police  for  national  standing  armies? 

22.  Should  the  United  States  maintain  the  Monroe 

23.  Should  the  Recall  of  Judges  be  adopted? 

24.  Should  the  Initiative  and  Referendum  be  adopted 
as  a  national  principle? 

25.  Is  it  desirable  that  the  national  government  should 
own  all  railroads  operating  in  interstate  territory? 

26.  Is  it  desirable  that  the  national  government  should 
own  interstate  tel^raph  and  telephone  systems? 

27.  Is  the  national  prohibition  of  the  liquor  traffic  an 
economic  necessity? 


28.  Should  the  United  States  anny  and  navy  be  greatly 

29.  Should  the  same  standards  of  altruism  obtain  in  the 
relations  of  nations  as  in  those  of  individuals? 

30.  Should  our  government  be  more  highly  centralized? 

31.  Should  the  United  States  continue  its  policy  of 
opposing  the  combination  of  railroads? 

32.  In  case  of  personal  injury  to  a  workman  arising  out 
of  his  employment,  should  his  employer  be  liable  for 
adequate  compensation  and  be  forbidden  to  set  up 
as  a  defence  a  plea  of  contributory  n^ligence  on 
the  part  of  the  workman,  or  the  n^ligence  of  a 
fellow  workman. 

33.  Should  all  corporations  doing  an  interstate  business 
be  required  to  take  out  a  Federal  license? 

34.  Should  the  amount  of  prop>erty  that  can  be  trans- 
ferred by  inheritance  be  limited  by  law? 

35.  Should  equal  compensation  for  equal  labor,  between 
women  and  men,  imiversally  prevail? 

36.  Does  equal  suffrage  tend  to  lessen  the  interest  of 
woman  in  her  home? 

37.  Should  the  United  States  take  advantage  of  the  com- 
mercial and  industrial  weakness  of  foreign  nations, 
brought  about  by  the  war,  by  trying  to  wrest  from 
them  their  markets  in  Central  and  South  America? 

38.  Should  teachers  of  small  children  in  the  public 
schools  be  selected  from  among  mothers? 

39.  Should  football  be  restricted  to  collies,  for  the  sake 
of  physical  safety? 

40.  Should  collie  students  who  receive  compensation 


for  playing  summer  baseball  be  debarred  from  ama- 
teur standing? 

41.  Should  daily  school-hours  and  school  vacations  both 
be  shortened? 

42.  Should  home-study  for  pupils  in  grade  schools  be 
abolished  and  longer  school-hoius  substituted? 

43.  Should  the  honor  sj^tem  in  examinations  be  adopted 
in  public  high-schools? 

44.  Should  all  colleges  adopt  the  self-government  system 
for  its  students? 

45.  Should  collies  be  classified  by  national  law  and 
supervision,  and  uniform  entrance  and  graduation 
requirements  maintained  by  each  coU^e  in  a 
particular  class? 

46.  Should  ministers  be  required  to  spend  a  term  of  years 
in  some  trade,  business,  or  profession,  before  be- 
coming pastors? 

47.  Is  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  losing  its  spiritual  power? 

48.  Is  the  church  losing  its  hold  on  thinking  people? 

49.  Are  the  people  of  the  United  States  more  devoted  to 
religion  than  ever? 

50.  Does  the  reading  of  magazines  contribute  to  intel- 
lectual shallowness? 


Thirty  Themes  for  Speeches 
With  Source  References  for  Material. 

1.  Kinship,  a  Foundation  Stone  of  Civilization. 
"The  State,"  Woodrow  Wilson. 

2.  Initiative  and  Referendum. 

"The  Popular  Initiative  and  Referendum,"  O.  M. 


Article  in  Independent,  53:  2874;  article  in  North 
American  Review,  178:  205. 

4.  Is  Mankind  Progressing? 
Book  of  same  title,  M.  M.  Ballou. 

5.  Moses  the  Peerless  Leader. 

Lecture  by  John  Lord, in  "  Beacon  Lights  of  History." 
Note:  This  set  of  books  contains  a  vast  store  of 
material  for  speeches. 

6.  The  Spoils  System. 

Sermon  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  van  Dyke,  reported 
in  the  New  York  Tribune,  February  25, 1895. 

7.  The  Negro  in  Business. 

Part  ni.  Annual  Report  of  the  Secretary  of  Internal 
Affairs,  Pennsylvania,  1912. 

8.  Immigration  and  Degradation. 
"Americans  or  Aliens?"  Howard  B.  Grose. 

9.  What  is  the  Theatre  Doing  for  America? 
"The  Drama  Today,"  Charlton  Andrews. 

10.    Superstition. 

"Curiosities  of  Popular  Custom,"  William  S.  Walsh. 


11.  The  Problem  of  Old  Age. 

"Old  Age  Deferred,"  Arnold  Loiand. 

12.  Who  is  the  Tramp? 
Article  in  Cenksryf  28:  41. 

13.  Two  Men  Inside. 

"Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  R.  L.  Stevenson. 

14.  The  Overthrow  of  Poverty. 

"The  Panacea  for  Poverty,"  Madison  Peters. 

15.  Morals  and  Manners. 

"A  Christian's  Habits,"  Robert  E.  Speer. 

16.  Jew  and  Christian. 

"Jesus  the  Jew,"  Harold  Weinstock. 

17.  Education  and  the  Moving  Picture. 

Article  by  J.  Berg  Esenwein  in  "The  Theatre  of 
Science,"  Robert  Grau. 

18.  Books  as  Food. 

"Books  and  Reading,"   R.   C.   Gage  and  Alfred 

19.  What  is  a  Novel? 

"The  Technique  of  the  Novel,"  Charles  F.  Home. 

20.  Modern  Fiction  and  Modern  Life. 
Article  in  LippincoU^s,  October,  1907. 

21.  Our  Problem  in  Mexico. 

"The  Real  Mexico,"  Hamilton  Fyfe. 

22.  The  Joy  of  Receiving. 

Article  in  Woman^s  Home  Companion,  December, 

23.  Physical  Training  vs.  College  Athletics. 
Article  in  Literary  Digest,  November  28,  1914. 

appendices  385 

24.  Cheer  Up. 

"The  Science  of  Happiness,"  Jean  Finot 

25.  The  Square  Peg  in  the  Round  Hole. 

"The  Job,   the  Man,  and  the  Boss,"   Katherine 
Blackford  and  Arthur  Newcomb. 

26.  The  Decay  of  Acting. 

Article  in  Current  Opinion,  November,  1914. 

27.  The  Young  Man  and  the  Church. 

"A  Young  man's  Religion,"  N.  McGee  Waters. 

28.  IimERiTiNG  Success 

Article  in  Current  Opinion,  November,  1914. 

29.  The  Indian  in  Oklahoma. 

Article  in  Literary  Digest,  November  28,  1914. 

30.  Hate  and  the  Nation. 

Article  in  Literary  Digest,  November  14,  I9i4« 


Suggestive  Subjects  for  Speeches^ 
With  Occasional  Hints  on  Treatment 

z.    Movies  and  Morals. 

2.  The  Truth  about  Lying. 

The  essence  of  truth-telling  and  l3dng.  Lies  that  are 
not  so  considered.  The  subtleties  of  distinctions 
required.    Examples  of  implied  and  acted  lies. 

3.  Benefits  That  Follow  Disasters. 

Benefits  that  have  arisen  out  of  floods,  fires,  earth- 
quakes, wars,  etc. 

4.  Haste  for  Leisure. 

How  the  speed  mania  is  bom  of  a  vain  desire  to 
enjoy  a  leisure  that  never  comes  or,  on  the  contrary, 
how  the  seeming  haste  of  the  world  has  given  men 
shorter  hoiurs  of  labor  and  more  time  for  rest,  study, 
and  pleasure. 

5.  St.  Paul's  Message  to  New  York. 

Truths  from  the  Epistles  pertinent  to  the  great  cities 
of  today. 

6.  Education  and  Crime. 

7.  Loss  IS  the  Mother  of  Gain. 

How  many  men  have  been  content  until,  losing  all, 
they  exerted  their  best  efforts  to  r^ain  success,  and 
succeeded  more  largely  than  before. 

>It  mutt  be  ramemberad  that  the  phnaiiic  of  the  rabjeot  will  not 
flttUy  MTvo  for  the  title. 

appendices  387 

8.  Egoism  vs.  Egotism. 

9.  Blxtnders  op  Young  Fogyism. 

10.  The  Waste  of  Middle-Men  in  Charity  Systems. 
The  cost  of  collecting  funds  for,  and  administering 
help  to,  the  needy.  The  weakness  of  organized 
philanthropy  as  compared  with  the  giving  that 
gives  itself. 

11.  The  Economy  op  Organized  Charity. 
The  other  side  of  the  picture. 

12.  Freedom  op  the  Press. 

The  true  forces  that  hurtfully  control  too  many 
newspapers  are  not  those  of  arbitrary  governments 
but  the  corrupting  influences  of  moneyed  and  pditi- 
cal  interests,  fear  of  the  liquor  power,  and  the  desire 
to  please  sensation-loving  readers. 

13.  Helen  Keller:   Optimist. 

14.  Back  to  the  Farm. 

A  study  of  the  reasons  underl3dng  the  movement. 

15.  It  Was  Ever  Thus, 

In  ridicule  of  the  pessimist  who  is  never  surprised 
at  seeing  failure. 

16.  The  Vocational  High  School. 

Value  of  direct  training  compared  with  the  policy  of 
laying  broader  foundations  for  later  building.  How 
the  two  theories  work  out  in  practise.  Each  plan 
can  be  especially  applied  in  cases  that  seem  to  need 
q>ecial  treatment. 

17.  All  Kinds  op  Turning  Done  Here. 

A  humorous  Jyet  serious,  discussion  of  the  flopping, 


i8.    The  Egoistic  Altruist. 

Herbert  Spencer's  theory  as  discussed  in  ''The  Data 
of  Ethics." 

19.  How  THE  City  Menaces  the  Nation. 
Economic  perils  in  massed  population.    Show  also 
the  other  side.    Signs  of  the  problem's  being  solved. 

20.  The  Robust  Note  in  Modern  Poetry. 

A  comparison  of  the  work  of  Galsworthy,  Masefield 
and  Kipling  with  that  of  some  earlier  poets. 

21.  The  Ideals  of  SociALisii. 

22.  The  Future  of  the  Small  City. 

How  men  are  coming  to  see  the  economic  advantages 
of  smaller  municipalities. 

23.  Censorship  for  the  Theatre. 

Its  relation  to  morals  and  art.  Its  difficulties  and  its 

24.  For  Such  a  Time  as  This. 

Mordecai's  expression  and  its  application  to  oppor- 
tunities in  modem  woman's  life. 

25.  Is  THE  Press  Venal? 

26.  Safety  First. 

27.  Menes  and  Extremes. 

28.  Rubicons  and  Pontoons. 

How  great  men  not  only  made  momentous  decisions 
but  created  means  to  carry  them  out.  A  speech  full 
of  historical  examples. 

29.  Economy  a  Revenue. 

30.  The  Patriotism  of  Protest  against  Popular 

31.  Savonarola,  the  Divine  Outcast. 

appendices  389 

32.  The  True  Politician. 

Revert  to  the  original  meaning  of  the  word.    Build 
the  speech  around  one  man  as  the  chief  example. 

33.  Colonels  and  Shells. 

Leadership  and  "cannon  fodder" — a  protest  against 
war  in  its  effect  on  the  conmion  people. 

34.  Why  is  a  Militant? 

A  dispassionate  examination  of  the  claims  of  the 
British  militant  suffragette. 

35.  Art  and  Morals. 

The  difference  between  the  nude  and  the  naked  in  art. 

36.  Can  my  Country  be  Wrong? 

False    patriotism    and    true,    with    examples    of 
populary-hated  patriots. 

37.  Government  by  Party. 

An  analysis  of  our  present  political  system  and  the 
movement  toward  reform. 

38.  The  Effects  op  Fiction  on  History. 

39.  The  Epfects  of  History  on  Fiction. 

40.  The  Influence  op  War  on  Literature. 

41.  Chinese  Gordon. 
A  eulogy. 

42.  Taxes  and  Higher  Education. 

Should  all  men  be  compelled  to  contribute  to  the 
support  of  universities  and  professional  schools? 

43.  Prize  Cattle  vs.  Prize  Babies. 

Is  Eugenics  a  science?   And  is  it  practicable? 

44.  Benevolent  Autocracy. 

Is  a  strongly  paternal  government  better  for  the 
masses  than  a  much  larger  freedom  for  the  individual? 

390  the  art  of  pubuc  speaking 

45.  Second-hand  Opinions. 

The  tendency  to  swallow  reviews  instead  of  forming 
one's  own  views. 

46.  Parentage  or  Power? 

A  study  of  which  form  of  aristocracy  must  eventually 
prevail,  that  of  blood  or  that  of  talent. 

47.  The  Blessing  of  Discontent. 

Based  on  many  examples  of  what  has  been  accom- 
plished by  those  who  have  not  "let  well-enough 

48.  "Corrupt  and  Contented." 

A  study  of  the  relation  of  the  apathetic  voter  to 
vicious  government. 

49.  The  Moloch  of  Child-Labor. 

50.  Every  Man  has  a  Right  to  Work. 

51.  Charity  that  Fosters  Pauperism. 

52.  "Not  in  Our  Stars  but  in  Ourselves." 
Destiny  vs,  choice. 

53.  Environment  vs.  Heredity. 

54.  The  Bravery  of  Doubt. 

Doubt  not  mere  unbelief.  True  grounds  for  doubt. 
What  doubt  has  led  to.  Examples.  The  weakness 
of  mere  doubt.  The  attitude  of  the  wholesome 
doubter  ifersus  that  of  the  wholesale  doubter. 

55.  The  Spirit  of  Monticello. 

A  message  from  the  life  of  Thomas  JefFerson. 

56.  Narrowness  in  Specialism. 

The  dangers  of  specializing  without  first  possessing 
broad  knowledge.  The  eye  too  dose  to  one  object. 
Balance  is  a  vital  prerequisite  for  spedalizatioii. 

appendices  39z 

57.  Responsibility  of  Labor  Unions  to  the  Law. 

58.  The  Futube  of  Sottthebn  Literatube. 

What  conditions  in  the  history,  temperament  and 
environment  of  our  Southern  people  indicate  a  bright 
literary  future. 

59.  Woman  the  Hope  of  Idealism  in  America. 

60.  The  Value  of  Debating  Clubs. 
6z.    An  Army  of  Thirty  Miluons. 

Li  praise  of  the  Sunday-school. 

62.  The  Baby. 

How  the  ever-new  baby  holds  mankind  in  unselfish 
courses  and  saves  us  all  from  going  lastingly  wrong. 

63.  Lo,  the  Poor  Capitalist. 
His  trials  and  problems. 

64.  Honey  and  Sting. 

A  lesson  from  the  bee. 

65.  Ungrateful  Republics. 
Examples  from  history. 

66.  "Every  Man  has  ms  Price." 

Horace  Walpole's  C3aucal  remark  is  not  true  now, 
nor  was  it  true  even  in  his  own  corrupt  era.  Of  what 
sort  are  the  men  who  cannot  be  bought?    Examples. 

67.  The  Scholar  in  Diploicacy. 
Examples  in  American  life. 

68.  Locks  and  Keys. 

There  is  a  key  for  every  lock.  No  difficulty  so  great, 
no  truth  so  obscure,  no  problem  so  involved,  but 
that  there  is  a  key  to  fit  the  lock.  The  search  for  the 
right  key,  the  struggle  to  adjust  it,  the  vigilance  to 
retain  it — ^these  are  some  of  the  problems  of  success. 

39^  t^b:^  art  of  public  speaking 

69.  Right  Makes  Might. 

70.  Rooming  with  a  Ghost. 

Influence  of  the  woman  graduate  of  fifty  years  before 
on  the  college  girl  who  lives  in  the  room  once  occu- 
pied by  the  distinguished  "old  grad." 

71.  No  Fact  is  a  Single  Fact. 

The  importance  of  weighing  facts  relatively. 

72.  Is  Classical  Education  Dead  to  Rise  no  More? 

73.  Invective  Against  Nietsche's  Philosophy. 

74.  Why  Have  we  Bosses? 

A  fair-minded  examination  of  the  uses  and  abuses  of 
the  political  "leader." 

75.  A  Plea  por  Settlement  Work. 

76.  Credulity  vs.  Faith. 

77.  What  is  Humor? 

78.  Use  and  Abuse  op  the  Cartoon. 

79.  The  Pulpit  in  Poutics. 

80.  Are  Colleges  Growing  too  Large? 

81.  The  Doom  op  Absolutism. 

82.  Shall  Woman  Help  Keep  House  por  Town,  City, 
State,  and  Nation? 

83.  The  Educational  Test  por  Supprage. 

84.  The  Property  Test  por  Supprage. 

85.  The  Menace  op  the  Plutocrat. 

86.  The  Cost  op  High  Living. 

87.  The  Cost  op  Conveniences. 

88.  Waste  in  American  Life. 

89.  The  Eppect  op  the  Photoplay  on  the  "Legiti- 
mate" Theatre. 

90.  Room  por  the  Kicker. 

appendices  393 

91.  The  Need  for  Trained  Diplomats. 

92.  The  Shadow  of  the  Iron  Chancellor. 

93.  The  Tyrrany  of  the  Crowd. 

94.  Is  Our  Trial  by  Jury  Satisfactory? 

95.  The  High  Cost  of  Securing  Justice. 

96.  The  Need  for  Speedier  Court  Trials. 

97.  Triumphs  of  the  American  Engineer. 

98.  goethals  and  gorgas. 

99.  Public  Education  Makes  Service  to  the  Public 
A  Duty. 

100.  Man  Owes  his  Life  to  the  Common  Good. 

Speeches  for  Study  and  Practise 



Delivered  in  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  October  18, 1914. 

Used  by  permission. 

Long  ago  Plato  made  a  distinction  between  the  occasions  of 
war  and  the  causes  of  war.  The  occasions  of  war  lie  upon  the 
surface,  and  are  known  and  read  of  all  men,  while  the  causes  of 
war  are  embedded  in  racial  antap^onisms,  in  political  and  eco- 
nomic controversies.  Narrative  historians  portray  the  occasions 
of  war;  philosophic  historians,  the  secret  and  hidden  causes. 
Thus  the  spark  of  fire  that  falls  is  the  occasion  of  an  explosion, 
but  the  cause  of  the  havoc  is  the  relation  between  charcoal,  niter 
and  saltpeter.  The  occasion  of  the  Civil  War  was  the  firing  upon 
Fort  Sumter.  The  cause  was  the  collision  between  the  ideals  of 
the  Union  presented  by  Daniel  Webster  and  the  secession  taught 
by  Calhoun.  The  occasion  of  the  American  Revolution  was  the 
Stamp  Tax;  the  cause  was  the  conviction  on  the  part  of  our 
forefathers  that  men  who  had  freedom  in  worship  carried  also 
the  capacity  for  self-government.  The  occasion  of  the  French 
Revolution  was  the  purchase  of  a  diamond  necklace  for  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette  at  a  time  when  the  treasuiy  was  exhausted; 
the  cause  of  the  revolution  was  feudalism,  ^fot  otherwise,  the 
occasion  of  the  great  conflict  that  is  now  shaking  our  earth  was 
the  assassination  of  an  Austrian  boy  and  girl,  but  the  cause  is 
embedded  in  radsd  antagonisms  and  economic  competition. 

As  for  Russia,  the  cause  of  the  war  was  her  desire  to  obtain  the 
Bosphorus — and  an  open  seaport,  which  is  the  prize  offered  for 
her  attack  upon  Germany.  As  for  Austria,  the  catise  of  the  war 
is  her  fear  of  the  growing  power  of  the  Balkan  States,  and  the 
progressive  slicing  away  of  her  territory.  As  for  Prance,  the 
cause  of  the  war  is  the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  that  resists 
an  invading  host.  As  for  Germany,  the  cause  is  her  deep-seated 
conviction  that  every  country  has  a  moral  right  to  the  mouth 
of  its  greatest  river;  unable  to  compete  with  England,  bv  round- 
about sea  routes  and  a  Kiel  Canal,  she  wants  to  use  the  route 
that  nature  digged  for  her  through  the  mouth  of  the  Rhine.  As 
for  England,  the  motherland  is  fighting  to  recover  her  sense 
of  security.  During  the  Napoleomc  wars  the  second  William 
Pitt  explained  the  quadrupling  of  the  taxes,  the  increase  of  the 
navy,  and  the  sending  of  an  English  army  against  Prance,  by  the 
statement  that  justification  of  this  proposed  war  is  the  "  Pieserva- 


tion  of  England's  sense  of  security."  Ten  years  ago  England 
lost  her  sense  of  security.  Today  she  is  not  seeking  to  preserve, 
but  to  recover,  the  lost  sense  of  security.  She  proposes  to  do 
this  by  destroying  Germany's  ironclads,  demobilmng  her  army, 
wiping  out  her  forts,  and  the  partition  of  her  provinces.  The 
occasions  of  the  war  vary,  with  the  color  of  the  paper — "white" 
and  "gray  "  and  "blue " — ^but  the  causes  of  this  war  are  embedded 
in  racial  antagonisms  and  economic  and  political  differences. 

Why  Little  Belgium  Has  the  Center  op  the  Stage 

Tonight  our  study  concerns  little  Belgium,  her  people,  and 
their  part  in  this  conflict.  Be  the  reasons  what  they  may,  this 
little  Laind  stands  in  the  center  of  the  stage  and  holds  the  lime- 
light. Once  more  David,  armed  with  a  sling,  has  gone  up  against 
t^  GoUaths.  It  is  an  amazing  spectacle,  this,  one  of  the  smallest 
of  the  States,  battling  with  uie  largest  of  the  giants!  Belgium 
has  a  standing  army  of  42,000  men,  and  Germany,  with  three 
reserves,  perhaps  7,000,000  or  8,000,000.  Without  waiting  for 
any  assistance,  this  little  Belgium  band  went  up  against  2,000,000. 
It  is  as  if  a  honey  bee  had  decided  to  attack  an  eagle  come  to 
loot  its  honeycomb.  It  is  as  if  an  antelope  had  turned  against  a 
lion.  Belgitmi  has  but  11,000  square  nules  of  land,  less  Uian  the 
States  of  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut.  Her 
population  is  7,500,000,  less  than  the  single  State  of  New  York. 
You  could  put  twenty-two  Belgiums  in  our  single  State  of  Texas. 
Much  of  her  soil  is  thin;  her  handicaps  are  heavy,  but  the  in- 
dustry of  her  people  has  turned  the  whole  land  into  one  vast 
flower  and  vegetable  garden.  The  soil  of  Minnesota  and  the 
Dakotas  is  new  soil,  and  yet  our  fanners  there  average  but 
flfteen  bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre.  Belgium's  soil  has  been  used 
for  centuries,  but  it  averages  thirty-seven  bushels  of  wheat  to 
the  acre.  If  we  grow  twenty-four  bushels  of  barley  on  an  acre 
of  ground,  Belgium  grows  fifty;  she  produces  300  bushels  of 
potatoes,  where  the  Maine  farmer  harvests    90  bushels.    Bel- 

S 'urn's  average  population  per  square  mile  has  risen  to  645  people. 
Americans  practised  intensive  farming;  if  the  population  of 
Texas  were  as  dense  as  it  is  in  Belgium — 100,000,000  of  the 
United  States,  Canada  and  Central  AmericsL  could  all  move  to 
Texas,  while  if  our  entire  countiy  was  as  densely  populated  as 
Belgium's,  everybody  in  the  world  could  live  comfortably  within 
the  limits  of  our  country. 

The  Life  op  the  People 

And  yet,  little  Belgium  has  no  gold  or  silver  mines,  and  all  the 
treasures  of  copper  and  zinc  and  lead  and  anthracite  and  oil 


have  been  denied  her.  The  gold  is  in  the  heart  of  her  people. 
No  other  land  holds  a  race  more  prudent,  industrious  and  thrifty. 
It  is  a  land  where  everybody  works.  In  the  winter  when  the 
sun  does  not  rise  until  half  past  seven,  the  Belgian  cottages  have 
lights  in  their  windows  at  nve,  and  the  people  are  ready  for  an 
eleven-hour  day.  As  a  rule  aU  children  work  after  12  years  of 
age.  The  exquisite  pointed  lace  that  has  made  Belgium  famous, 
is  wrought  by  women  who  fulfill  the  tasks  of  the  household  ful- 
filled by  American  women,  and  then  begins  their  task  upon  the 
exquisite  laces  that  have  sent  their  name  and  fame  throughout 
the  world.  Their  wages  are  low,  their  work  hard,  but  their  life 
is  so  peaceful  and  prosperous  that  few  Belgians  ever  emigrate 
to  foreign  countries.  Of  late  they  have  made  their  education 
compulsory,  their  schools  free.  It  is  doubtful  whether  any  other 
country  has  made  a  greater  success  of  their  system  of  transporta- 
tion. You  will  pay  50  cents  to  journey  some  twenty  odd  miles 
out  to  Roslyn,  on  our  Long  Island  railroad,  but  in  Belgium  a 
commuter  journeys  twenty  miles  in  to  the  factory  and  back  again 
every  night  and  makes  the  six  double  daily  journeys  at  an  entire 
cost  of  37^  cents  per  week,  less  than  the  amount  that  you  pay 
for  the  journey  one  way  for  a  like  distance  in  this  country.  Out 
of  this  has  come  Belgium's  prosperity.  She  has  the  money  to 
buy  goods  from  other  countries,  and  she  has  the  property  to 
export  to  foreign  lands.  Last  year  the  United  States,  with  its 
hundred  millions  of  people,  imported  less  than  $2,000,000,000, 
and  exported  $2,500,000,000.  Ii  our  people  had  been  as  prosper- 
ous per  capita  as  Belgium,  we  would  have  purchased  from  other 
countries  $12,000,0&),000  worth  of  goods  and  exported 

So  largely  have  we  been  dependent  upon  Belgium  that  many 
of  the  engines  used  in  digging  the  Panama  Canal  came  from  the 
CockeriU  works  that  produce  two  thousands  of  these  engines 
every  year  in  Liege.  It  is  often  said  that  the  Belgians  have  the 
best  courts  in  existence.  The  Supreme  Court  of  Little  Belgium 
has  but  one  Justice.  Without  waiting  for  an  appeal,  just  as  soon 
as  a  decision  has  been  reached  by  a  lower  Court,  while  the  matters 
are  still  fresh  in  mind  and  all  the  witnesses  and  facts  readily 
obtainable,  this  Supreme  Justice  reviews  all  the  objections  raised 
on  either  side  and  without  a  motion  from  anyone  passes  on  the 
decision  of  the  inferior  court.  On  the  other  hand,  the  lower 
courts  are  open  to  an  immediate  settlement  of  disputes  between 
the  wa^e  earners,  and  newsboys  and  fishermen  are  almost  daily 
seen  gomg  to  the  judge  for  a  decision  regarding  a  dispute  over 
five  or  ten  cents.  "V^en  the  judge  has  cross-questioned  both 
sides,  without  the  presence  of  attorneys,  or  the  necessity  of  serv- 
ing a  process,  or  raising  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  as  here,  the  poorest 
of  the  poor  have  their  wrongs  righted.  It  is  said  that  not  one 
decision  out  of  one  htmdred  is  appealed,  thus  calling  for  the 
existence  of  an  attorney. 


To  all  other  institutions  organized  in  the  interest  of  the  wage 
earner  has  been  added  the  national  savings  bank  system,  that 
makes  loans  to  men  of  small  means,  that  enables  the  farmer  and 
the  working  man  to  buy  a  little  garden  and  build  a  house,  while 
at  the  same  time  insuring  the  working  man  against  accident  and 
sickness.  Belgium  is  a  poor  man's  country,  it  has  been  said, 
because  institutions  have  been  administered  in  the  interest  of  the 
men  of  small  affairs. 

The  Great  Belgium  Plain  in  History 

But  the  institutions  of  Belgium  and  the  industrial  prosperity 
of  her  people  alone  are  not  equal  to  the  explanation  of  her  unique 
heroism.  Long  ago,  in  his  Commentaries,  Julius  Caesar  said  that 
Gaul  was  inhabited  by  three  tribes,  the  Belgse,  the  Aquitani, 
the  Celts,  "of  whom  the  Belgs  were  the  bravest."  History  will 
show  that  Belgians  have  courage  as  their  native  right,  for  only 
the  brave  could  have  survived.  The  southeastern  part  of  Belgium 
is  a  series  of  rock  plains,  and  if  these  plains  have  been  her  good 
forttme  in  times  of  peace,  they  have  furnished  the  battlefields  of 
Western  Europe  for  two  thousand  years.  Northern  France  and 
Western  Germany  are  rough,  jagged  and  wooded,  but  the 
Belgian  plains  were  ideal  battlefields.  For  this  reason  the  gen- 
erals of  Germany  and  of  France  have  usually  met  and  struggled 
for  the  mastery  on  these  wide  Belgian  plains.  On  one  of  these 
grotmds  Julius  Caesar  won  the  first  battle  that  is  recorded.  Then 
came  King  Clovis  and  the  French,  with  their  campaigns;  toward 
these  plains  also  the  Saracens  were  hunying  when  assaulted  by 
Charles  Martel.  On  the  Belgian  plains  the  Dutch  burghers  and 
the  Spanish  armies,  led  by  Bloody  Alva,  fought  out  their  battle. 
Hither,  too,  came  Napoleon,  and  the  great  mound  of  Waterloo 
is  the  monument  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  victory.  It  was 
to  the  Belgian  plains,  also,  that  the  German  general,  laist  August, 
rushed  his  troops.  Every  college  and  every  city  searches  for 
some  level  spot  of  land  where  the  contest  between  opposing 
teams  may  be  held,  and  for  more  than  two  thousand  years  the 
Belgian  plain  has  been  the  scene  of  the  great  battles  between  the 
warring  nations  of  Western  Europe. 

Now,  out  of  all  these  collisions  there  has  come  a  hardy  race, 
inured  to  peril,  rich  in  fortitude,  loyalty,  patience,  thrift,  self- 
reliance  and  persevering  faith.  For  five  htmdred  years  the  Belgian 
children  and  youth  have  been  brought  tip  upon  the  deeds  of  noble 
renown,  achieved  by  their  ancestors.  If  Julius  Caesar  were  here 
today  he  would  wear  Belgiimi's  bravery  like  a  bright  sword,  girded 
to  his  thigh.  And  when  this  brave  little  people,  with  a  standing 
army  of  forty-two  thousand  men,  single-handed  defied  two 
miUions  of  Germans,  it  tells  us  that  Ajax  has  come  back  once 
more  to  defy  the  god  of  lightnings. 


A  Thrilling  Chapter  from  Belgium's  History 

Perhaps  one  or  two  chapters  torn  from  the  pages  of  Belgium's 
history  will  enable  us  to  understand  her  present-day  heroism, 
just  as  one  golden  bough  plucked  from  the  forest  wiU  explain 
the  richness  of  the  autumn.  You  remember  that  Venice  was 
once  the  financial  center  of  the  world.  Then  when  the  bankers 
lost  confidence  in  the  navy  of  Venice  they  put  their  jewcds  and 
gold  into  saddle  bags  and  moved  the  financial  center  of  the  world 
to  Nuremburg,  because  its  walls  were  seven  feet  thidc  and  twenty 
feet  high.  Later,  about  1500  A.  D.,  the  discovery  of  the  New 
World  turned  all  the  peoples  into  races  of  sea-going  folk,  and  the 
English  and  Dutch  captains  vied  with  the  sailors  of  Spain  and 
Portugal.  No  captains  were  more  prosperous  than  the  mariners 
of  Antwerp.  In  1568  there  were  500  marble  mansions  in  this 
dty  on  the  Meuse.  Belgium  became  a  casket  filled  with  jewels. 
Then  it  was  that  Spain  turned  covetous  eyes  northward.  Sated 
with  his  pleasures,  broken  by  indulgence  and  passion,  the  Em- 
peror Charles  the  Fifth  resigned  his  gold  and  throne  to  his  son, 
Kine  Philip.  Pindine  his  coders  depleted,  Philip  sent  the  Duke 
of  Alva,  with  10,000  Spanish  soldiers,  out  on  a  looting  expedition. 
Their  approach  filled  Antwerp  with  consternation,  for  her 
merchants  were  busy  with  commerce  and  not  with  war.  The 
sack  of  Antwerp  by  the  Spaniards  makes  up  a  revolting  page  in 
history.  Within  three  days  8,000  men,  women  and  chiloren  were 
massacred,  and  the  Spanish  soldiers,  drunk  with  wine  and  blood, 
hacked,  drowned  ana  burned  like  fiends  that  they  were.  The 
Belgian  historian  tells  us  that  500  marble  residences  were  reduced 
to  blackened  ruins.  One  incident  will  make  the  event  stand  out. 
When  the  Spaniards  approached  the  dty  a  wealthy  burgher 
hastened  the  day  of  his  son's  marriage.  During  the  ceremony 
the  soldiers,  broke  down  the  gate  of  the  dty  and  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  rich  man's  house.    When  they  had  stripped  the 

gaests  of  their  purses  and  gems,  unsatisfied,  they  kmed  the 
ridegroom,  slew  the  men,  and  carried  the  bride  out  into  the  night. 
The  next  morning  a  youn^  woman,  crazed  and  half  dad,  was 
found  in  the  street,  searching  among  the  dead  bodies.  At  last 
she  found  a  youth,  whose  h^ul  she  lifted  upon  her  knees,  Ofver 
which  she  crooned  her  songs,  as  a  youn£  mother  soothes  her  babe. 
A  Spanish  officer  passing  by,  humiUated  by  the  spectade,  ordered 
a  soldier  to  use  his  dagger  and  put  the  girl  out  of  her  misery. 

Thb  Horrors  op  the  Inquisition 

Having  looted  Antwerp,  the  treasure  chest  of  Belgium,  the 
Spaniards  set  up  the  Inquisition  as  an  organized  means  ci  securing 
property.  It  is  a  strange  fact  that  the  Spaniard  has  excelled  in 
cruelty  as  other  nations  have  excelled  in  art  or  sdence  or  inven- 
tion. Spain's  cruelty  to  the  Moors  and  the  rich  Jews  forms  one 
of  the  blackest  chapters  in  history.    Inquisitors  became  fiends. 


Moors  were  starved,  tortured,  btimed,  flung  in  wells,  Jewish  bankers 
had  their  tongues  thrust  through  little  iron  rings;  then  the  end 
of  the  tongue  was  seared  that  it  might  swell,  and  the  banker  was 
led  by  a  string  in  the  ring  through  the  streets  of  the  city.  The 
women  and  the  children  were  put  on  rafts  that  were  pu^ed  out 
into  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  When  the  swollen  corpses  drifted 
ashore,  the  plague  broke  out,  and  when  that  black  plague  spread 
over  Spain  it  seemed  like  the  justice  of  outraged  nattire.  The 
expulsion  of  the  Moors  was  one  of  the  deadliest  blows  ever  struck 
at  science,  commerce,  art  and  literature.  The  historian  tracks 
Spain  across  the  continents  by  a  trail  of  blood.  Wherever  Spain's 
hand  has  fallen  it  has  paralyzed.  From  the  days  of  dortez, 
wherever  her  captains  have  given  a  pledge,  the  tongue  that  spake 
has  been  mildewed  "with  lies  and  treachery.  The  wildest  beasts 
are  not  in  the  jungle;  man  is  the  lion  that  rends,  man  is  the 
leopard  that  tears,  man's  hate  is  the  serpent  that  poisons,  and 
the  Spaniard  entered  Belgium  to  turn  a  garden  into  a  wilderness. 
Withm  one  year,  1568,  Antweip,  that  bqgan  ¥7ith  125,000  people, 
ended  it  ¥7ith  50,000.  Many  multitudes  were  put  to  death  bv 
the  sword  and  staJce,  but  many,  many  thousands  fled  to  England, 
to  begin  anew  their  lives  as  manufacturers  and  mariners;  and 
for  years  Belgium  was  one  quaking  peril,  an  inferno,  whose 
torturers  were  Spaniards.  The  visitor  m  Antwerp  is  still  shown 
the  rack  upon  which  the^  stretched  the  merchants  that  they 
might  vidd  up  their  hidden  gold.  The  Painted  Lady  may  be 
seen.  Opening  her  arms,  she  embraces  the  victim.  The  Spaniard, 
with  his  spear,  forced  the  merchant  into  the  deadly  embrace. 
As  the  iron  arms  concealed  in  velvet  folded  together,  one  spike 
passed  through  each  eye,  another  through  the  mouth,  another 
through  the  heart.  The  Painted  Lady's  lips  were  poisoned,  so 
that  a  kiss  was  fataL  The  dungeon  whose  sides  were  forced 
together  by  screws,  so  that  each  day  the  victim  saw  his  cell 
growing  less  and  less,  and  knew  that  soon  he  would  be  crushed  to 
death,  was  another  instrument  of  torture.  Literally  thousands  of 
innocent  men  and  women  were  burned  alive  in  the  market  place. 

There  is  no  more  piteous  tragedy  in  history  than  the  story 
of  the  decline  and  ruin  of  this  superbly  prosperous,  literary  and 
artistic  country,  and  yet  out  ot  the  a&es  came  new  courage. 
Burned,  broken,  the  Belgians  and  the  Dutch  were  not  beaten. 
Pushed  at  last  into  Holland,  where  they  united  their  fortunes 
with  the  Dutch,  they  cut  the  dykes  of  Holland,  and  let  in  the 
ocean,  and  clinging  to  the  dykes  with  their  finger  tips,  fought 
their  way  back  to  the  land;  but  no  sooner  had  the  last  of  the 
Spaniards  gone  than  out  of  their  rags  and  poverty  they  founded 
a  university  as  a  monument  to  the  providence  of  God  m  deliver- 
ing them  out  of  the  hands  of  their  enemies.  For,  the  Sixteenth 
Ceatury,  in  the  form  of  a  brave  knight,  wears  little  Belgium  and 
Holland  like  a  red  rose  upon  his  heart. 


The  Death  op  Egmont 

But  some  of  you  will  say  that  the  Belgian  people  must  have 
been  rebels  and  guilty  of  some  exoess,  and  that  had  they  remained 
quiescent,  and  not  fomented  treason,  that  no  such  fate  could 
have  overtaken  them  at  the  hands  of  Spain.  Very  well.  I  will 
take  a  youth  who,  at  the  beginning,  believed  in  Charles  the  Fifth, 
a  man  who  was  as  true  to  his  id^ds  as  the  needle  to  the  pole. 
One  day  the  "Bloody  Council"  decreed  the  death  of  Egmont 
and  Horn.  Immediately  afterward,  the  Duke  of  Alva  sent  an 
invitation  to  Egmont  to  be  the  guest  of  honor  at  a  banquet  in 
his  own  house.  A  servant  from  the  [>alace  that  night  delivered 
to  the  Count  a  slip  of  paper,  containing  a  warning  to  take  the 
fleetest  horse  and  nee  the  city,  and  from  that  moment  not  to  eat 
or  sleep  without  pistols  at  his  hand.  To  all  this  Egmont  re- 
spond^ that  no  monster  ever  lived  who  could,  with  an  mvitaticm 
of  hospitality,  trick  a  patriot.  Like  a  brave  man,  the  Count 
went  to  the  Duke's  palace.  He  found  the  guests  assembled,  but 
when  he  had  handed  his  hat  and  cloak  to  the  servant,  Alva  gave 
a  sign,  and  from  behind  the  curtains  came  Spanish  musqueteers, 
who  demanded  his  sword.  For  instead  of  a  banquet  hall,  the 
Cotmt  was  taken  to  a  cellar,  fitted  up  as  a  dungeon.  Already 
Egmont  had  all  but  died  for  his  country.  He  had  used  his  ships, 
his  trade,  his  gold,  for  righting  the  people's  wrongs.  He  was  a 
man  of  a  large  family — a  wife  and  eleven  children — and  people 
loved  him  as  to  idolatry.  But  Alva  was  inexorable.  He  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  the  merchants  and  burghers  had  still 
much  hidden  gold,  and  if  he  killed  their  bravest  and  best,  terror 
would  fall  upon  all  alike,  and  that  the  gold  he  needed  would  be 
forthcoming.  That  all  the  people  might  witness  the  scene,  he 
took  his  prisoners  to  Brussels  and  decided  to  behead  them  in  the 
public  square.  In  the  evening  Egmont  received  the  notice  that 
nis  head  would  be  chopped  off  the  next  day.  A  scaffold  was 
erected  in  the  public  square.  That  evening  he  wrote  a  letter 
that  is  a  marvel  of  restraint. 

"Sire — I  have  learned  this  evening  the  sentence  which  your 
majesty  has  been  pleased  to  pronotmce  upon  me.  Although  I 
have  never  had  a  thought,  and  believe  myself  never  to  have  done  a 
deed,  which  wotdd  tend  to  the  prejudice  of  your  service,  or  to  the 
detriment  of  true  religion,  nevertheless  I  take  patience  to  bear 
that  which  it  has  pleased  the  good  God  to  permit.  Therefore,  I 
pray  your  majesty  to  have  compassion  on  my  poor  wife,  my 
children  and  my  servants,  having  regard  to  my  past  service.  In 
which  hope  I  now  commend  myself  to  the  mercy  of  God.  Prom 
Brussels,  ready  to  die,  this  5th  of  June,  1568. 

"Lamoral  D'  Egmont." 

Thus  died  a  man  who  did  as  much  probably  for  Holland  as 
John  Eliot  for'  England,  or  Layette  for  Prance,  or  Samud 
Adams  for  this  young  republic* 

appendices  4oz 

The  Woe  of  Belgium 

And  now  out  of  all  this  glorious  past  comes  the  woe  of  Belgium. 
Desolation  has  come  like  the  whirlwind,  and  destruction  like  a 
tornado.  But  ninety  days  ago  and  Belgium  was  a  hive  of  in- 
dustry, and  in  the  fields  were  heard  the  h^^est  songs.  Suddenly, 
Germany  struck  Belgium.  The  whole  world  has  but  one  voice, 
"Belgium  has  innocent  hands."  She  was  led  like  a  lamb  to  the 
slaughter.  When  the  lover  of  Germany  is  asked  to  explain 
Germany's  breaking  of  her  solemn  treaty  upon  the  neutrality  of 
Belgium,  the  German  stands  dumb  and  speechless.  Merchants 
honor  their  written  obligations.  True  citizens  consider  their 
word  as  good  as  their  bond;  Germanv  gave  treaty,  and  in  the 
presence  of  God  and  the  civilized  world,  entered  into  a  solemn 
covenant  with  Belgium.  To  the  end  of  time,  the  German  must 
expect  this  taunt,  "as  worthless  as  a  German  treaty."  Scarcely 
less  black  the  two  or  three  known  examples  of  cruelty  wrought 
upon  nonresisting  Belgians.  In  Brooklyn  lives  a  Belgian  woman. 
She  planned  to  return  home  in  late  July  to  visit  a  father  who  had 
suffered  paralysis,  an  aged  mother  and  a  sister  who  nursed  both. 
When  the  Germans  decided  to  bum  that  village  in  Eastern 
Belgium,  they  did  not  wish  to  bum  alive  this  old  and  helpless 
man,  so  they  bayonetted  to  death  the  old  man  and  woman,  and 
tiie  daughter  that  nursed  them. 

Let  us  judge  not,  that  we  be  not  judged.  This  is  the  one 
example  of  atrocitv  that  you  and  I  might  be  able  personally  to 
prove.  But  every  loyal  Gemian  in  the  country  can  make  answer: 
These  soldiers  were  drunk  with  wine  and  blood.  Such  an 
atrocity  misrepresents  Germany  and  her  soldiers.  The  breaking 
of  Germany's  treaty  with  Belgium  represents  the  di^onor  of  a 
military  ring,  and  not  the  perfidy  of  68,000,000  of  people.  We 
ask  that  judgment  be  postponed  until  all  the  facts  are  in."  But, 
meanwhile,  the  man  who  loves  his  fellows,  at  midnight  in  his 
dreams  walks  across  the  fields  of  broken  Belgitun.  ML  through 
the  night  air  there  comes  the  sob  of  Rachel,  weeping  for  her 
children,  because  they  are  not.  In  moods  of  bitterness,  of  doubt 
and  despair  the  heart  cries  out,  "How  could  a  just  God  permit 
such  cruelty  upon  innocent  Belgium  ?  "  No  man  knows.  *  *  Ulouds 
and  darkness  are  round  about  God's  throne."  The  spirit  of  evil 
caused  this  war,  but  the  Spirit  of  God  may  bring  gocxi  out  of  it, 
just  as  the  summer  can  repair  the  ravages  of  winter.  Meanwhile 
the  heart  bleeds  for  Belgitun.  For  Brussels,  the  third  most 
beautiful  city  in  Europe!  For  Louvain,  once  rich  with  its  libra- 
ries, cathedrals,  statues,  paintings,  missals,  manuscripts — now  a 
ruin.  Alas!  for  the  ruined  harvests  and  the  smoking  villages! 
Alas,  for  the  Cathedral  that  is  a  heap,  and  the  library  that  is  a 
ruin.  Where  the  angel  of  happiness  was  there  stalk  Famine 
and  Death.  Gone,  the  Land  of  urotius!  Perished  the  paintings 
of  Rubens!    Ruined  is  Louvain.    Where  the  wheat  waved,  now 


the  hillsides  are  billowy  with  graves.  But  let  us  believe  that 
God  reigns.  Perchanoe  Belgium  is  slain  like  the  Saviour,  that 
militarism  may  die  like  Satan.  Without  shedding  of  innocent 
blood  there  is  no  remission  of  sins  through  tyraimy  and  greed. 
There  is  no  wine  without  the  crushing  m.  the  gnapes  from  the 
tree  of  life.  Soon  Libertv,  God's  dear  child,  wul  stand  ¥7ithin 
the  scene  and  comfort  the  desolate.  Palling  upon  the  great 
world's  altar  stairs,  in  this  hour  when  wisdom  is  ignorance,  and 
the  strongest  man  clutches  at  dust  and  straw,  let  us  believe  with 
faith  victorious  over  tears,  that  some  time  God  will  gather 
broken-hearted  little  Belgium  into  His  arms  and  comfort  her  as 
a  Father  comforteth  his  well-beloved  child. 



Eight  years  a^o  tonight,  there  stood  where  I  am  standing  now 
a  ^otmg  Georgian,  who,  not  ¥7ithout  reason,  recognized  the 
"significance"  of  his  presence  here,  and,  in  words  whose  cdo- 
quence  I  cannot  hope  to  recall,  appealed  from  the  New  South 
to  New  England  for  a  united  cotmtr^. 

He  is  gone  now.  But,  short  as  his  life  was,  its  heaven-bom 
mission  was  fulfilled;  the  dream  of  his  childhood  was  realized; 
for  he  had  been  appointed  by  God  to  carry  a  message  of  peace 
on  earth,  good  will  to  men,  and,  this  done,  he  vanishol  from  the 
sight  of  mortal  eyes,  even  as  the  dove  from  the  ark. 

Grady  told  us,  and  told  us  truly,  of  that  typical  American 
who,  in  Dr.  Talmage's  mind's  eye,  was  coming,  but  who,  in 
Abraham  Lincoln's  actuality,  had  alreadv  come.  In  some  recent 
studies  into  the  career  of  that  man,  I  nave  encountered  many 
startling  confirmations  of  this  judgment;  and  from  that  rugged 
trunk,  drawing  its  sustenance  from  gnarled  roots,  interlocked 
with  Cavalier  sprays  and  Puritan  branches  deep  beneath  the 
soil,  shall  spring,  is  springing,  a  shapelv  tree — symmetric  in  all 
its  parts — under  whose  sheltering  boughs  this  nation  shall  have 
the  new  birth  of  freedom  Lincoln  promised  it,  and  mankind  the 
refuge  which  was  sought  by  the  forefathers  when  they  fled  from 
oppression.  Thank  (kkI,  the  ax,  the  gibbet,  and  the  stake  have 
had  their  day.  They  have  gone,  let  us  hope,  to  keep  company 
with  the  lost  arts.  It  has  been  demonstrated  that  great  wrongs 
may  be  redressed  and  great  reforms  be  achieved  without  the 
shedding  of  one  drop  of  human  blood;  that  vengeance  does  not 
purify,  out  brutalizes;  and  that  tolerance,  which  in  private 
transactions  is  reckoned  a  virtue,  becomes  in  public  affairs  a 
dogma  of  the  most  far-seeing  statesmanship. 


So  I  appeal  from  the  men  in  silken  hose  who  danced  to 
music  made  by  slaves — and  called  it  freedom — from  the  men  in 
bell-crowned  hats,  who  led  Hester  Prynne  to  her  shame — and 
called  it  religion — ^to  that  Americanism  which  reaches  forth  its 
arms  to  smite  wrong  with  reason  and  truth,  secure  in  the  power 
of  both.  I  appeal  from  the  patriarchs  of  New  England  to  the 
poets  of  New  England;  from  Endicott  to  Lowell;  fromWinthrop 
to  Longfellow;  from  Norton  to  Holmes;  and  I  app^  in  the 
name  and  b^  the  rights  of  that  common  citizenship — of  that 
common  origin — ^back  of  both  the  Puritan  and  the  Cavalier — ^to 
which  all  of  us  owe  our  being.  Let  the  dead  past,  consecrated 
by  the  blood  of  its  martyrs,  not  by  its  savage  hatreds— darkened 
alike  by  kingcraft  and  priestcraft — ^let  the  dead  past  bury  its 
dead.  Let  the  present  and  the  future  ring  with  the  song  of  the 
singers.  Blessed  be  the  lessons  they  teach,  the  laws  they  make. 
Blessed  be  the  eye  to  see,  the  light  to  reveal.  Blessed  be  Toler- 
ance, sitting  ever  on  the  right  h^d  of  God  to  guide  the  way  with 
loving  word,  as  blessed  be  all  that  brings  us  nearer  the  goal  of 
true  religion,  true  Republicanism,  and  true  patriotism,  (Sstrust 
of  watchwords  and  labels,  shams  and  heroes,  belief  in  our  country 
and  ourselves.  It  was  not  Cotton  Mather,  but  John  Greenleaf 
Whittier,  who  cried. — 

'*  Dear  God  and  Father  of  us  all, 
Forgive  our  faith  in  cruel  lies, 
Forgive  the  blindness  that  denies. 

"Cast  down  our  idols — overturn 
Our  bloody  altars-^make  us  see 
Thyself  in  Thy  humanity!" 

pounder's  day  address 


Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsbui|:h,  Pa.,  November  3,  1904. 
What  is  so  hard  as  a  just  estimate  of  the  events  of  our  own 
time?  It  is  only  now,  a  century  and  a  half  later,  that  we  really 
perceive  that  a  writer  has  something  to  sa^  for  himself  when  he 
calls  Wolfe's  exploit  at  Quebec  the  turning  point  in  modem 
history.  And  to-day  it  is  nard  to  imagine  any  rational  standard 
that  would  not  make  the  American  Revolution — an  insurrection 
of  thirteen  little  colonies,  with  a  poptdation  of  3,000,000  scattered 
in  a  distant  wilderness  among  savages — a  mightier  event  in  many 
of  its  aspects  than  the  volcanic  convulsion  in  Prance.  Again, 
the  upbuilding  of  your  great  West  on  this  continent  is  redconed 


by  some  the  most  important  woild  movement  of  the  last  hundred 
years.  But  is  it  more  important  than  the  amazing,  imposing, 
and  perhaps  disquieting  apparition  of  Japan?  One  authority 
insists  that  when  Russia  descended  into  the  Par  East  and  pushed 
her  frontier  on  the  Pacific  to  the  forty-third  degree  of  latitude, 
that  was  one  of  the  most  far-reaching  facts  of  modem  history, 
tho  it  almost  escaped  the  eyes  of  Europe — all  her  perceptions 
then  monopolized  by  affairs  in  the  Levant.  Who  can  say? 
Many  courses  of  the  sun  were  needed  before  men  could  take  the 
full  historic  measures  of  Luther,  Calvin,  Knox;  the  measure  of 
Loyola,  the  Council  of  Trent,  and  all  the  cotmter-reformation. 
The  center  of  gravity  is  forever  shifting,  the  political  axis  of  the 
world  perpetu^y  changing.  But  we  are  now  far  enough  off  to 
discern  how  stupendous  a  thing  was  done  when,  after  two  cycles 
of  bitter  war,  one  foreign,  the  other  civil  and  intestine,  Pitt  and 
Washington,  within  a  span  of  less  than  a  score  of  years,  planted 
the  foundations  of  the  American  Republic. 

What  Porbes's  stockade  at  Port  Pitt  has  grown  to  be  you  know 
better  than  I.  The  huge  triumphs  of  Pittsburg  in  material  pro- 
duction— iron,  steel,  coke,  glass,  and  all  the  rest  of  it — can  only 
be  told  in  colossal  figures  that  are  almost  as  hard  to  realize  in 
our  minds  as  the  figures  of  astronomical  distance  or  geologic 
time.  It  is  not  quite  clear  that  all  the  founders  of  the  Common- 
wealth would  have  surveyed  the  wonderful  scene  with  the  same 
exultation  as  their  descendants.  Some  of  them  would  have 
denied  that  these  great  centers  of  industrial  democracy  either 
in  the  Old  World  or  in  the  New  always  stand  for  progress. 
Jefferson  said,  "  I  view  great  cities  as  pestilential  to  the  morals, 
the  health,  and  the  liberties  of  man.  I  consider  the  class  of 
artificers,"  he  went  on,  "as  the  panders  of  vice,  and  the  instru- 
ment by  which  the  liberties  of  a  coimtry  are  generally  over- 
thrown." In  England  they  reckon  70  per  cent,  of  our  popula- 
tion as  dwellers  in  towns.  With  you,  I  read  that  only  25  per 
cent,  of  the  population  live  in  groups  so  large  as  4,000  persons. 
If  Jefferson  was  right  our  outlook  would  be  dark.  Let  us  hope 
that  he  was  wrone,  and  in  fact  toward  the  end  of  his  time  qualified 
his  early  view.  Franklin,  at  any  rate,  would,  I  feel  sure,  have 
revded  in  it  all. 

That  great  man — a  name  in  the  forefront  among  the  practical 
intelligences  of  human  history — once  told  a  friend  that  when  he 
dwelt  upon  the  rapid  progress  that  mankind  was  making  in 
politics,  morals,  and  the  arts  of  living,  and  when  he  considered 
that  each  one  improvement  always  begets  another,  he  felt  assured 
that  the  future  progress  of  the  race  was  likely  to  be  quicker  than 
it  had  ever  been.  He  was  never  wearied  of  foretelling  inventions 
yet  to  come,  and  he  wished  he  could  revisit  the  earth  at  t^e  end 
of  a  century  to  see  how  mankind  was  getting  on.  With  aU  my 
heart  I  share  his  wish.    Of  all  the  men  who  have  built  up  great 


States,  I  do  believe  there  is  not  one  whose  alacrity  of  sound  sense 
and  single-e^ed  beneficence  of  aim  could  be  more  safely  trusted 
than  Pranklm  to  draw  light  from  the  clouds  and  pierce  the  eco- 
nomic and  political  confusions  of  our  time.  We  can  imag^e 
the  amazement  and  complacency  of  that  shrewd  benignant  mind 
if  he  could  watch  all  the  giant  marvels  of  your  mills  and  furnaces, 
and  all  the  apparatus  devised  by  the  wondrous  inventive  faculties 
of  man;  if  he  could  have  foreseen  that  his  experiments  with  the 
kite  in  his  garden  at  Philadelphia,  his  tubes,  his  Leyden  jars 
would  end  m  the  electric  appliances  of  to-day — the  largest 
electric  plant  in  all  the  world  on  the  site  of  Port  Duquesne;  if 
he  could  have  heard  of  5,000,000,000  of  passengers  carried  in 
the  United  States  by  electric  motor  power  m  a  year;  if  he  could 
have  realized  all  the  rest  of  the  magician's  tale  of  our  time. 

Still  more  would  he  have  been  astounded  and  elated  could  he 
have  foreseen,  bevond  all  advances  in  material  production,  the 
unbroken  strength  of  that  political  structure  which  he  had  so 
grand  a  share  in  rearing,  into  this  veir  region  where  we  are 
this  afternoon,  swept  wave  after  wave  of  immigration;  English 
from  Virginia  flowed  over  the  border,  bringing  English  traits, 
literature,  habits  of  mind;  Scots,  or  Scoto-Irish,  origmally  from 
Ulster,  flowed  in  from  Central  Pennsylvania;  Catholics  from 
Southern  Ireland;  new  hosts  from  Southern  and  East  Central 
Europe.  This  is  not  the  Pourth  of  July.  But  people  of  every 
school  would  agree  that  it  is  no  exuberance  of  rhetoric,  it  is  only 
sober  truth  to  say  that  the  persevering  absorption  and  incor- 
poration of  all  this  ceaseless  torrent  of  heterogenous  elements 
mto  one  united,  stable,  industrious,  and  pacific  State  is  an 
achievement  that  neither  the  Roman  Empire  nor  the  Roman 
Church,  neither  Byzantine  Empire  nor  Russian,  not  Charles  the 
Great  nor  Charles  the  Fifth  nor  Napoleon  ever  rivaled  or  ap- 

We  are  usually  apt  to  excuse  the  slower  rate  of  liberal  progress 
in  our  Old  World  by  contrasting  the  obstructive  barriers  of 
prejudice,  survive,  solecism,  anachronism,  convention,  institu- 
tion, all  so  obstinately  rooted,  even  when  the  branches  seem  bare 
and  broken,  in  an  old  world,  with  the  open  and  disengaged  ground 
of  the  new.  Yet  in  fact  your  difficulties  were  at  least  as  formida- 
ble as  those  of  the  older  civilizations  into  whose  fruitful  heritage 
you  have  entered.  Unique  was  the  necessity  of  this  gigantic 
task  of  incorporation,  the  assimilation  of  people  of  divers  faiths 
and  race.  A  second  difficulty  was  more  formidable  still — ^how  to 
erect  and  work  a  powerful  and  wealthy  State  on  such  a  system  as 
to  combine  the  centralized  concert  of  a  federal  system  with  local 
independence,  and  to  unite  collective  energy  with  the  encourage- 
ment of  individual  freedom. 

This  last  difficulty  that  you  have  so  successfully  up  to  now 
surmounted,  at  the  present  hour  confronts  the  mother  country 


and  deeply  perplexes  her  statesmen.  Liberty  and  union  have 
been  callea  the  twin  ideas  of  America.  So,  too,  they  are  the 
twin  ideals  of  all  responsible  men  in  Great  Britain;  altho  re^x>nsi- 
ble  men  difEer  among  themselves  as  to  the  safest  path  on  which 
to  travel  toward  the  common  goal,  and  tho  the  dividing  ocean, 
in  other  ways  so  much  our  friend,  interposes,  for  our  case  of  an 
island  State,  or  rather  for  a  group  of  island  States,  obstacles  from 
which  a  continental  State  like  yours  is  happily  altogether  free. 

Nobody  believes  that  no  difficulties  remam.  Some  of  them  are 
obvious.  But  the  common-sense,  the  mixture  of  patience  and 
determination  that  has  conquered  risks  and  mischiefs  in  the 
past,  may  be  trusted  with  the  future. 

Strange  and  devious  are  the  paths  of  history.  Broad  and 
shining  channels  eet  mysteriously  dlted  up.  How  many  a  time 
what  seemed  a  glorious  high  road  proves  no  more  than  a  mule 
track  or  mere  oil-de-sac.  Think  of  Canning's  flashing  boast, 
when  he  insisted  on  the  recognition  of  the  Spanish  republics  in 
South  America — that  he  had  called  a  new  world  into  existence 
to  redress  the  balance  of  the  old.  This  is  one  of  the  sayings — of 
which  sort  many  another  might  be  found — ^that  make  the  fortune 
of  a  rhetorician,  yet  stand  m  the  wear  and  tear  of  time  and  cir- 
cumstance. The  new  world  that  Canning  called  into  existence 
has  so  far  turned  out  a  scene  of  singular  dSenchantment. 

Tho  not  without  glimpses  on  occasion  of  that  heroism  and 
courage  and  even  wi^om  that  are  the  attributes  of  man  almost 
at  the  worst,  the  tale  has  been  too  much  a  tale  of  anarchy  and 
disaster,  still  leaving  a  host  of  perplexities  for  statesmen  both  in 
America  and  Europe.  It  has  left  aiso  to  students  of  a  philosophic 
turn  of  mind  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  all  the  problems  to  be 
found  in  the  whole  field  of  social,  ecclesiastical,  religious,  and 
racial  movement.  Why  is  it  that  we  do  not  find  in  the  south  as 
we  find  in  the  north  of  this  hemisphere  a  powerful  federation — a 
great  Spanish-American  people  stretching  from  the  Rio  Grande 
to  Cape  Horn?  To  answer  that  question  would  be  to  shed  a 
flood  of  light  upon  many  deep  historic  forces  in  the  Old  Worid, 
of  which,  after  all,  these  movements  of  the  New  are  but  a  pro- 
longation and  more  manifest  extension. 

What  more  imposing  phenomenon  does  history  present  to  us 
than  the  rise  of  Spanish  power  to  the  pinnacle  of  greatness  and 
glory  in  the  sixteenth  century?  The  Mohanmiedans,  after  cen- 
turies of  fierce  and  stubborn  war,  driven  back;  the  whole  penin- 
sula brought  under  a  single  rule  with  a  single  creed;  enormous 
acquisitions  from  the  Netherlands  of  Naples,  Sicily,  the  Canaries; 
France  humbled,  England  menaced,  settlements  made  in  Asia 
and  Northern  Africa — Spain  in  America  become  possessed  of  a 
vast  continent  and  of  more  than  one  ardiipelago  of  splendid 
islands.  Yet  before  a  century  was  over  the  sovereign  majesty 
of  Spain  underwent  a  huge  declension,  the  territory  under  her 


sway  was  contracted,  the  fabulous  wealth  of  the  mines  of  the 
New  World  had  been  wasted,  agriculture  and  industry  were 
ruined,  her  commerce  passed  into  tiie  hands  of  her  rivals. 

Let  me  di^p'ess  one  further  moment.  We  have  a  very  sensible 
habit  in  the  island  whence  I  come,  when  our  country  misses  fire, 
to  say  as  little  as  we  can,  and  sink  the  thing  in  patriotic  oblivion. 
It  is  rather  startling  to  recall  that  less  thsm  a  century  ago  Eng- 
land twice  sent  a  nSlitary  force  to  seize  what  is  now  Argentina. 
Pride  of  race  and  hostile  creed  vehemently  resisting,  proved  too 
much  for  us.  The  two  expeditions  ended  in  failure,  and  nothing 
remains  for  the  historian  of  to-day  but  to  wonder  what  a  differ- 
ence it  might  have  made  to  the  temperate  region  of  South 
America  if  the  fortune  of  war  had  gone  the  other  way,  if  the 
region  of  the  Plata  had  become  British,  and  a  large  British  immi- 
gration had  followed.  Do  not  think  me  guil^  of  the  heinous 
crime  of  forgetting  the  Monroe  Doctrine.  That  momentous 
declaration  was  not  made  for  a  good  many  years  after  our  Gen. 
Whitelocke  was  repulsed  at  Buenos  Ayres,  tho  Mr.  Sumner  and 
other  people  have  always  held  that  it  was  Canning  who  reaUy 
first  started  the  Monroe  Doctrine,  when  he  invited  the  United 
States  to  join  him  against  European  intervention  in  South 
American  affairs. 

The  day  is  at  hand,  we  are  told,  when  four-fifths  of  the  human 
race  will  trace  their  pedigree  to  English  forefathers,  as  four- 
fifths  of  the  white  people  in  the  United  States  trace  their  pedigree 
to-day.  By  the  end  of  this  centtiry,  they  say,  such  nations  as 
France  and  Germany,  assuming  that  they  stand  apart  from 
fresh  consolidations,  will  only  be  able  to  claim  the  same  relative 
position  in  the  political  world  as  Holland  and  Switzerland.  These 
musings  of  the  moon  do  not  take  us  far.  The  important  thing, 
as  we  all  know,  is  not  the  exact  fraction  of  the  human  race  that 
will  speak  English.  The  important  thing  is  that  those  who  speak 
English,  whetiber  in  old  lands  or  new,  shall  strive  in  lofty,  gen- 
erous and  never-ceasing  emulation  with  peoples  of  other  tongues 
and  other  stock  for  the  political,  social,  and  intellectual  primacy 
among  mankind.  In  this  noble  strife  for  the  service  of  our  race 
we  n^d  never  fear  that  claimants  for  the  prize  will  be  too  large 
a  multitude. 

As  an  able  scholar  of  your  own  has  said,  Jefferson  was  here 

using  the  old  vernacular  of  English  aspirations  after  a  free, 
mamv,  and  well-ordered  political  life — a  vernacular  rich  in 
stately  tradition  and  noble  phrase,  to  be  found  in  a  score  of  a 

thousand  of  champions  in  many  camps — in  Buchanan,  Milton, 
Hooker,  Locke,  feremy  Taylor,  Roger  Williams,  and  many 
another  humbler  but  not  less  strenuous  pioneer  and  confessor  of 
freedom.  Ah,  do  not  fail  to  count  up,  and  count  np  often,  what 
a  different  world  it  would  have  been  but  for  that  island  in  the 
distant  northern  sea!    These  were  the  tributary  fountains,  that, 

4o8         THE  ART  OF  FUBUC  SPEAKING 

as  time  went  on,  swelled  into  the  broad  confluence  of  modem 
time.  What  was  new  in  1776  was  the  transfonnation  of  thought 
into  actual  polity. 

What  is  progress?  It  is  best  to  be  slow  in  the  complex  arts  of 
politics  in  their  widest  sense,  and  not  to  hurry  to  defuae.  If  you 
want  a  platitude,  there  is  nothing  for  supplying  it  like  a  defini- 
tion. Or  shall  we  say  that  most  definitions  hang  between  plati- 
tude and  paradox?  There  are  said,  tho  I  have  never  counted,  to 
be  10,000  definitions  of  religion.  There  must  be  about  as  many 
of  poetry.  There  can  haiSly  be  fewer  of  liberty,  or  even  df 

I  am  not  bold  enough  to  try  a  definition.  I  will  not  try  to 
gauge  how  far  the  advance  of  moral  forces  has  kept  pace  with 
that  extension  of  material  forces  in  the  world  of  which  this  con- 
tinent, con^icuous  before  all  others,  bears  such  astounding 
evidence.  Ijiis,  of  course,  is  the  question  of  ouestions,  because 
as  an  illustrious  English  writer — ^to  whom,  by  the  way,  I  owe  my 
friendship  with  your  founder  man^  long  years  ago— as  Matthew 
Arnold  said  in  America  here,  it  is  moral  ideas  that  at  bottom 
decide  the  standing  or  falling  of  states  and  nations.  Without 
opening  this  vast  discussion  at  large,  many  a  sign  of  progress  is 
beyond  mistake.  The  practise  of  associated  action — one  of  the 
master  keys  of  progress — ^is  a  new  force  in  a  hundred  fields,  and 
with  immeasurable  diversity  of  forms.  There  is  less  acquiescence 
in  triumphant  wrong.  Toleration  in  religion  has  been  called 
ti^e  best  fruit  of  the  last  four  centuries,  and  in  spite  of  a  few 
bigoted  survivals,  even  in  our  United  Kingdom,  and  some  savage 
outbreaks  of  hatred,  half  religious,  half  racial,  on  the  Continent 
of  Europe,  this  glorious  gain  of  time  may  now  be  taken  as  secured. 
Perhaps  of  all  the  contributions  of  America  to  human  civiliza- 
tion this  is  greatest.  The  reign  of  force  is  not  yet  over,  and  at 
intervals  it  has  its  triumphant  hours,  but  reason,  justice,  hu- 
manity fight  with  success  their  long  and  steady  battle  for  a  wider 

Of  all  the  points  of  social  advance,  in  my  country  at  least, 
during  the  last  generation  none  is  more  marked  than  the  change 
in  the  position  of  women,  in  respect  of  rights  of  property,  of 
education,  of  access  to  new  callings.  As  for  the  improvement  of 
material  well-being,  and  its  diffusion  among  those  whose  labor 
is  a  prime  factor  in  its  creation,  we  might  grow  sated  with  the 
jubilant  monotony  of  its  figures,  if  we  did  not  take  good  care  to 
remember,  in  the  excellent  words  of  the  President  of  Harvard, 
that  those  gains,  like  the  pro^)erous  working  of  your  institu- 
tions and  the  principles  by  which  they  are  sustained,  are  in 
essence  moral  contributions,  "being  principles  of  reason,  enter- 
prise, courajg[e,  faith,  and  justice,  over  passion,  selfishness,  inert- 
ness, timidity,  and  distrust."  It  is  the  moral  impulses  that 
matter.    Where  they  are  safe,  all  is  safe. 


When  this  and  the  like  is  said,  nobody  supposes  that  the  last 
word  has  been  spoken  as  to  the  condition  of  the  people  either  in 
America  or  Europe.  Republicanism  is  not  itself  a  panacea  for 
economic  difficulties.  Of  self  it  can  neither  stifle  nor  appease  the 
accents  of  social  discontent.  So  long  as  it  has  no  root  in  sur- 
veyed envy,  tiiis  discontent  itself  is  a  token  of  progress. 

What,  cries  the  skeptic,  what  has  become  of  all  the  hopes  of 
the  time  when  Prance  stood  upon  the  top  of  golden  hoursr  Do 
not  let  us  fear  the  challenge.  Much  has  come  of  them.  And  over 
the  old  hopes  time  has  brought  a  stratum  of  new. 

Liberalism  is  sometimes  suspected  of  bein^  cold  to  these  new 
hopes,  and  you  ma^  often  hear  it  said  that  Liberalism  is  already 
superseded  by  Socialism.  That  a  change  is  passing  over  party 
names  in  Europe  is  plain,  but  you  may  to  sure  that  no  change  in 
name  will  extinguish  these  principles  of  society  which  are  rooted 
in  the  nature  of  things,  and  are  accredited  by  their  success. 
Twice  America  has  saved  Liberalism  in  Great  Britain.  The  War 
for  Independence  in  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  defeat  of 
usurping  power  no  less  in  England  than  here.  The  War  for  Union 
in  the  nineteenth  century  gave  the  decisive  impulse  to  a  critical 
extension  of  suffrage,  and  an  era  of  popular  reform  in  the  mother 
country.  Any  miscarriage  of  democracy  here  reacts  against 
progress  in  Great  Britain. 

If  you  seek  the  real  meaning  of  most  modem  disparagement  of 
popular  or  parliamentary  government,  it  is  no  more  than  this, 
that  no  politics  will  suffice  of  themselves  to  make  a  nation's  souL 
What  could  be  more  true?  Who  sajrs  it  will?  But  we  may  de- 
pend upon  it  that  the  soul  will  be  best  kept  alive  in  a  nation  where 
there  is  the  highest  proportion  of  those  who,  in  the  phrase  of 
an  old  worthy  of  the  seventeenth  century,  think  it  a  part  of  a 
man's  religion  to  see  to  it  that  his  coimtry  be  well  governed. 

Democracy,  they  tell  us,  is  afflicted  by  mediocrity  and  by 
sterility.  But  has  not  democracy  in  my  country,  as  in  yours, 
shown  before  now  that  it  well  knows  how  to  choose  rulers  neither 
mediocre  nor  sterile;  men  more  than  the  equals  in  unselfishness, 
in  rectitude,  in  clear  sight,  in  force,  of  any  absolutist  statesman, 
that  ever  in  times  past  bore  the  scepter?  If  I  live  a  few  months, 
or  it  may  be  even  a  few  weeks  longer,  I  hope  to  have  seen  some- 
thing of  three  elections — one  in  Canada,  one  in  the  United  King- 
dom, and  the  other  here.  With  us,  in  respect  of  leadership,  and 
apart  from  height  of  social  prestige,  the  personage  corresponding 
to  the  president  is,  as  you  know,  the  pnme  minister.  Our  gen- 
eral election  this  time,  owing  to  personal  accident  of  the  passing 
hour,  may  not  determine  quite  exactly  who  shall  be  the  prime 
minister,  but  it  will  determine  the  party  from  which  the  prime 
minister  shall  be  taken.  On  normal  occasions  our  election  of  a 
prime  minister  is  as  direct  and  personal  as  yours,  and  in  choosing 
a  member  of  Parliament  people  were  really  for  a  whole  generation 


choosixig  whether  Disiaeli  or  Gladstone  or  Salisbury  should  be 
head  of  the  government. 

The  one  central  difEerenoe  between  3rour  system  and  ours  is 
that  the  American  president  is  in  for  a  fixed  time,  whereas  the 
British  prime  minister  depends  upon  the  support  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  If  he  loses  that,  his  power  may  not  endure  a  twelve- 
month; if  on  the  other  hand,  he  keeps  it,  he  may  hold  office  for 
a  dozen  years.  There  are  not  many  more  interesting  or  impor- 
tant questions  in  political  discussion  than  the  question  whether 
our  cabinet  government  or  your  presidential  system  of  govern- 
ment is  the  TOtter.   This  is  not  the  place  to  aigue  it. 

Between  1868  and  now — a  period  of  thirty-six  years — ^we  have 
had  eight  ministries.  This  would  give  an  average  life  of  f otir  and 
a  half  years.  Of  these  eight  governments  five  lasted  over  five 
vears.  Broadly  speaking,  then,  our  executive  governments  have 
lasted  about  tiie  length  of  your  fixed  term.  As  for  ministers 
swept  away  by  a  gust  of  passion,  I  can  only  recall  the  overthrow 
of  Lord  Palmerston  in  1858  for  being  thought  too  subservient 
to  Prance.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  always  thought  that  by  its 
free  play,  its  comparative  fluidity,  its  rapid  flexibiUty  of  adapta- 
tion, our  cabinet  S3rstem  has  most  to  say  for  itself. 

Whether  democracy  will  make  for  peace,  we  all  have  yet  to  see. 
So  far  democracy  has  done  little  in  Europe  to  protect  us  against 
the  turbid  whirlpools  of  a  military  age.  When  the  evils  of  rival 
states,  antagonistic  races,  territorial  claims,  and  all  the  other 
formulae  of  mtemational  conflict  are  felt  to  be  unbearable  and 
the  curse  becomes  too  ^^reat  to  be  any  longer  borne,  a  school  of 
teachers  will  ^rhaps  arise  to  pick  up  again  the  thread  of  the  best 
writers  and  wisest  rulers  on  the  eve  of  the  revolution.  Movement 
in  this  region  of  human  things  has  not  all  been  pn^essive.  If 
we  survey  the  European  courts  from  the  end  of  the  Seven  Years' 
War  down  to  the  French  Revolution,  we  note  the  marked  ^wth 
of  a  distinctly  international  and  pacific  spirit.  At  no  era  in  the 
world's  history  can  we  find  so  many  European  statesmen  after 
peace  and  the  good  government  of  which  peace  is  the  best  ally. 
That  sentiment  came  to  violent  end  when  N^)oleon  arose  to 
scouige  the  world. 




The  success  of  the  Abolitionists  and  their  allies,  under  the 
name  of  the  Republican  party,  has  produced  its  logical  results 
already.  They  have  for  long  vears  been  sowing  drs^ons'  teetii 
and  have  finally  got  a  crop  oi  armed  men.  The  Union,  sir,  is 
dissolved.    That  is  an  accomplished  fact  in  the  path  of  this  dis- 


cussion  that  men  may  as  well  heed.  One  of  3rour  confederates 
has  ahready  wisely,  bravely,  boldly  confronted  public  danger, 
and  she  is  only  ahead  of  many  of  her  sisters  because  of  her  gre&ter 
facility  for  speedy  action.  The  greater  majority  of  those  sister 
States,  under  like  circumstances,  consider  her  cause  as  their 
cause;  and  I  charge  you  in  their  name  to-day:  "Touch  not 
Saguntum."^  It  is  not  only  their  cause,  but  it  is  a  cause  which 
receives  the  sympathy  and  will  receive  the  support  of  tens  and 
hundreds  of  honest  patriot  men  in  the  nonslaveholding  States, 
who  have  hitherto  maintained  constitutional  rights,  and  who 
re^>ect  their  oaths,  abide  by  compacts,  and  love  justice. 

And  while  this  Congress,  this  Senate,  and  this  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives are  debatiiu;  the  constitutionality  and  the  expediency 
of  seceding  from  the  Union,  and  while  the  p^dious  authors  ol 
this  mischief  are  showering  down  denunciations  upon  a  large 
portion  of  the  patriotic  men  of  this  country,  those  brave  men  are 
coolly  and  caunly  voting  what  you  call  revolution — aye,  sir, 
doing  better  than  that:  arming  to  defend  it.  They  appeialed  to 
the  Constitution,  they  appealed  to  justice,  they  appealed  to 
fraternity,  until  the  Constitution,  justice,  and  fraternity  were 
no  longer  listened  to  in  the  legislative  halls  of  their  country,  and 
then,  sir,  they  prepared  for  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword;  and 
now  you  see  the  glittering  bayonet,  and  you  hear  the  tramp  of 
armed  men  from  your  capitol  to  the  Rio  Grande.  It  is  a  sight 
that  gladdens  the  eyes  and  cheers  the  hearts  of  other  millions 
ready  to  second  them.  Inasmuch,  sir,  as  I  have  labored  earnestly, 
honestly,  sincerely,  with  these  men  to  avert  this  necessity  so  long 
as  I  deemed  it  possible,  and  inasmuch  as  I  heartily  approve  their 
present  conduct  of  resistance,  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  state  their 
case  to  the  Senate,  to  the  country,  and  to  the  civilized  world. 

Senators,  my  countrymen  have  demanded  no  new  government; 
they  have  demanded  no  new  Constitution.  Look  to  their  records 
at  home  and  here  from  the  beginning  of  this  national  strife  until 
its  consummation  in  the  disruption  of  the  empire,  and  they  have 
not  demanded  a  single  thing  except  that  you  shall  abide  by  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States;  that  constitutional  rights 
shall  be  respected,  and  that  justice  shall  be  done.  Sirs,  they  have 
stood  by  your  Constitution;  they  have  stood  by  all  its  require- 
ments, they  have  performed  all  its  duties  unselfishly,  imcalculat- 
ingly,  disinterestedly,  tmtil  a  party  sprang  up  in  this  country 
which  endangered  their  social  ^stem — a  party  which  they  ar- 
raign, and  which  they  charge  before  the  American  people  and  all 
mankind  with  having  made  proclamation  of  outlawry  against 
f otu*  thousand  millions  of  their  property  in  the  Territories  of  the 
United  States;  with  having  put  them  under  the  ban  of  the  empire 

>Sa«untum  was  a  city  of  Iberia  (Spain)  in  alliance  with  Rome.  Hannibal, 
in  qyite  of  Rome's  warnings  in  219  B.  C,  laid  siege  to  and  captured  it.  This 
became  the  immediate  cause  of  the  war  which  Rome  declared  against  Carthage. 


in  all  the  States  in  which  their  institutions  exist  outside  the  pro- 
tection of  federal  laws;  with  having  aided  and  abetted  insur- 
rection from  within  and  invasion  from  witJiout  with  the  view  of 
subvertin|[  those  institutions,  and  desolating  their  homes  and 
their  firesides.    For  these  causes  they  have  tcScen  up  arms. 

I  have  stated  that  the  discontented  States  of  this  Union  have 
demanded  nothing  but  clear,  distinct,  unequivocal,  well- 
acknowledged  constitutional  rights — frights  amrmed  by  the 
highest  judicial  tribunals  of  their  cotmtry;  rights  older  than  the 
Constitution;  rights  which  are  planted  upon  the  immutable 
principles  of  natural  justice;  rights  which  have  been  affirmed  by 
the  good  and  the  wise  of  all  countries,  and  of  all  centuries.  We 
demand  no  power  to  injure  any  man.  We  demand  no  right  to 
injure  our  confederate  States.  We  demand  no  right  to  interfere 
with  their  institutions,  either  by  word  or  deed.  We  have  no 
right  to  disturb  their  peace,  their  tranquillity,  their  security.  We 
have  demanded  of  them  simply,  solely — ^nothing  else — ^to  give  us 
equality f  security  and  tranquUlity,  Give  us  these,  and  peace 
restores  itself.    Refuse  them,  ana  take  what  you  can  get. 

What  do  the  rebels  demand?  First,  "that  the  people  of  the 
United  States  shall  have  an  equal  right  to  emigrate  and  settle 
in  the  present  or  any  future  acquired  Territories,  with  whatever 
property  they  may  possess  (including  slaves),  and  be  securely 
protected  in  its  peaceable  enjoyment  imtil  such  Territory  may 
oe  admitted  as  a  State  into  the  Union,  with  or  without  siavery, 
as  she  may  determine,  on  an  equality  with  all  existing  States." 
That  is  our  Territorial  demand.  We  have  fought  for  this  Terri- 
tory when  blood  was  its  price.  We  have  paid  for  it  when  gold 
was  its  price.  We  have  not  proposed  to  exclude  you,  tho  you 
have  contributed  very  little  of  blood  or  money.  I  reier  especially 
to  New  England.  We  demand  only  to  go  into  those  Territories 
upon  terms  of  equality  with  you,  as  equals  in  this  great  Confed- 
eracy, to  enjoy  the  common  property  of  the  whole  Union,  and 
receive  the  protection  of  the  common  government,  until  the 
Territory  is  capable  of  coming  into  the  Union  as  a  sovereign 
State,  when  it  may  fix  its  own  institutions  to  suit  itself. 

The  second  proposition  is,  "that  property  in  slaves  shall  be 
entitled  to  the  same  protection  from  the  government  of  the  United 
States,  in  all  of  its  departments,  everywhere,  which  the  Constitu- 
tion confers  the  power  upon  it  to  extend  to  any  other  property, 
provided  nothing  herein  contained  shall  be  construed  to  limit 
or  restrain  the  right  now  belonging  to  every  State  to  prohibit, 
abolish,  or  establish  and  protect  slavery  within  its  limits."  We 
demand  of  the  common  government  to  use  its  granted  powers  to 
protect  our  property  as  well  as  yours.  For  this  protection  we  pay 
as  much  as  you  do.  This  very  property  is  suljject  to  taxation. 
It  has  been  taxed  by  you  and  sold  by  you  for  taxes. 

The  title  to  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  slaves  is  de* 


rived  from  the  United  States.  We  claim  that  the  government, 
while  the  Constitution  recognizes  our  property  for  the  purposes 
of  taxation,  shall  give  it  the  same  protection  that  it  gives  yours. 

Ought  it  not  to  be  so?  You  say  no.  Every  one  of  you  upon 
the  committee  said  no.  Your  senators  say  no.  Yotir  House  of 
Representatives  says  no.  Throughout  the  length  and  breadth 
of  your  conspiracy  against  the  Constitution  Siere  is  but  one 
shout  of  no!  This  recognition  of  this  right  is  the  price  of  my 
allegiance.  Withhold  it,  and  you  do  not  get  my  obedience.  This 
is  the  philosophy  of  the  armed  men  who  have  sprung  up  in  this 
country.  Do  you  ask  me  to  support  a  government  that  will  tax 
my  property;  that  will  plunder  me;  that  will  demand  my  blood, 
and  will  not  protect  me?  I  would  rather  see  the  population  of 
my  native  State  laid  six  feet  beneath  her  sod  than  they  should 
support  for  one  hour  such  a  government.  Protection  is  the  price 
of  obedience  everywhere,  in  all  countries.  It  is  the  only  thing 
that  makes  government  respectable.  Deny  it  and  you  can  not 
have  free  subjects  or  citizens;  you  may  have  slaves. 

We  demand,  in  the  next  place,  "that  persons  committing 
crimes  against  slave  property  in  one  State,  and  fleeing  to  another, 
shall  be  delivered  up  in  the  same  manner  as  persons  committing 
crimes  a^^ainst  other  property,  and  that  the  laws  of  the  State 
from  which  such  persons  flee  shall  be  the  test  of  criminality.*' 
That  is  another  one  of  the  demands  of  an  extremist  and  a  rebel. 

But  the  nonslaveholding  States,  treacherous  to  their  oaths  and 
compacts,  have  steadily  refused,  if  the  criminal  only  stole  a  negro 
and  that  negro  was  a  slave,  to  deliver  him  up.  It  was  refused 
twice  on  the  requisition  of  my  own  State  as  long  as  twenty-two 
years  ago.  It  was  refused  by  Kent  and  by  Fairfield,  governors 
of  Maine,  and  representing,  I  believe,  each  of  the  then  federal 
parties.  We  app^ed  then  to  fraternity,  but  we  submitted;  and 
this  constitutional  right  has  been  practically  a  dead  letter  from 
that  day  to  this.  The  next  case  came  up  between  us  and  the 
State  of  New  York,  when  the  present  senior  senator  [Mr.  Seward] 
was  the  governor  of  that  State;  and  he  refused  it.  Why?  He 
said  it  was  not  against  the  laws  of  New  York  to  steal  a  negro,  and 
therefore  he  would  not  comply  with  the  demand.  He  made  a 
similar  refusal  to  Virginia.  Yet  these  are  our  confederates; 
these  are  our  sister  States!  There  is  the  bargain;  there  is  the 
compact.  You  have  sworn  to  it.  Both  these  governors  swore 
to  it.  The  senator  from  New  York  swore  to  it.  The  governor 
of  Ohio  swore  to  it  when  he  was  inaugurated.  You  can  not  bind 
them  by  oaths.  Yet  they  talk  to  us  of  treason;  and  I  suppose 
thev  expect  to  whip  freemen  into  loving  such  brethren!  They 
will  have  a  good  time  in  doing  it! 

It  is  natural  we  should  want  this  provision  of  the  Constitution 
carried  out.  The  Constitution  says  slaves  are  property;  the 
Supreme  Court  says  so;  the  Constitution  says  so.    'Hie  theft  of 


daves  is  a  crime;  they  are  a  subject-matter  of  felonious  asporta- 
tion. By  the  text  and  letter  of  the  Constitution  you  agreed  to 
give  them  up.  You  have  sworn  to  do  it,  and  you  have  broken 
your  oaths.  Of  course,  those  who  have  done  so  look  out  for  pre- 
texts. Nobody  expected  them  to  do  otherwise.  I  do  not  tmnk 
I  ever  saw  a  perjurer,  however  bald  and  naked,  who  could  not 
invent  some  pretext  to  palliate  his  crime,  or  who  could  not,  for 
fifteen  shillings,  hire  an  Old  Bailey  lawyer  to  invent  some  for  him. 
Yet  this  requirement  of  the  Constitution  is  another  one  of  the 
extreme  demands  of  an  extremist  and  a  rebel. 

The  next  stipulation  is  that  fup[itive  slaves  shall  be  surrendered 
under  the  provisions  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Act  of  1850,  without 
being  entitled  either  to  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  or  trial  by  jury, 
or  other  similar  obstructions  of  legislation,  in  the  State  to  whidi 
he  may  flee.    Here  is  the  Constitution: 

"  No  person  held  to  service  or  labor  in  one  State,  under  the 
laws  thereof,  escaping  into  another,  shall,  in  consequence  of 
any  law  or  regulation  therein,  be  discharged  from  sudi  service 
or  labor,  but  shall  be  delivered  up  on  daim  of  the  party  to 
whom  such  service  or  labor  may  be  due." 

This  language  is  plain,  and  everybody  understood  it  the  same 
way  for  the  first  forty  years  of  your  government.  In  1793,  in 
Washington's  time,  an  act  was  passed  to  carry  out  this  provision. 
It  was  adopted  unanimously  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States, 
and  nearly  so  in  the  House  of  Representatives.  Nobody  then 
had  invented  pretexts  to  show  that  the  Constitution  cud  not 
mean  a  negro  slave.  It  was  clear;  it  was  plain.  Not  only  the 
federal  courts,  but  all  the  local  courts  in  all  the  States,  decided 
that  this  was  a  constitutional  obligation.  How  is  it  now?  The 
North  sought  to  evade  it;  following  the  instincts  of  their  natural 
character,  they  commenced  with  the  fraudulent  fiction  that 
fugitives  were  entitled  to  habeas  corpus,  entitled  to  trial  by  jury 
in  the  State  to  which  they  fled.  They  pretended  to  believe  that 
our  fugitive  slaves  were  entitled  to  more  rights  than  their  white 
citizens;  perhaps  they  were  right,  they  know  one  another  better 
than  I  do.  You  may  charge  a  white  man  with  treason,  or  felony, 
or  other  crime,  and  you  do  not  require  any  trial  by  jury  before 
he  is  given  up;  there  is  nothing  to  determine  but  that  he  is 
legally  charged  with  a  crime  and  that  he  fled,  and  then  he  is  to  be 
ddivered  up  upon  demand.  White  people  are  delivered  up  every 
day  in  this  way;  but  not  slaves,  ^ves,  black  people,  you  say, 
are  entitled  to  trial  by  juiv;  and  in  this  way  schemes  have  been 
invented  to  defeat  your  pLun  constitutional  obligations. 

Senators,  the  Constitution  is  a  compact.  It  contains  all  our 
obligations  and  the  duties  of  the  f edersu  government.  I  am  con- 
tent and  have  ever  been  content  to  sustam  it.  While  I  doubt  its 
perfection,  while  I  do  not  believe  it  was  a  good  compact,  and 


while  I  never  saw  the  day  that  I  would  have  voted  for  it  as  a 
proposition  de  novo,  yet  I  am  bound  to  it  by  oath  and  by  that 
common  prudence  which  would  induce  men  to  abide  by  estab- 
lished forms  rather  than  to  rush  into  unknown  dangers.  I  have 
given  to  it,  and  intend  to  give  to  it,  unfaltering  support  and 
allegiance,  but  I  choose  to  put  that  allegiance  on  the  true  ground, 
not  on  the  false  idea  that  anybody's  blood  was  shed  for  it.  I  say 
tiiat  the  Constitution  is  the  whole  compact.  All  the  obligations, 
all  the  chains  that  fetter  the  limbs  of  my  people,  are  nonunated 
in  the  bond,  and  they  wisely  excluded  any  conclusion  against 
them,  by  declaring  that  "the  powers  not  granted  by  the  Consti- 
tution to  the  Umted  States,  or  forbidden  by  it  to  the  States, 
belonged  to  the  States  respectively  or  the  people." 

Now  I  will  try  it  by  that  standard;  I  will  subject  it  to  that 
test.  The  law  of  nature,  the  law  of  justice,  would  say — and  it  is 
so  expounded  by  the  publicists — that  equal  rights  in  the  common 
property  shall  be  enjoyed.  Even  in  a  monarchy  the  long  can  not 
prevent  the  subjects  from  enjoying  equality  in  the  deposition 
of  the  public  property.  Even  in  a  despotic  government  this 
principle  is  recognized.  It  was  the  blood  and  the  money  of  the 
whole  people  (says  the  learned  Grotius,  and  say  all  the  publicists) 
which  acquired  the  public  property,  and  therefore  it  is  not  the 
property  of  the  sovereign.  This  right  of  ©quality  being,  then, 
according  to  justice  and  natural  equity,  a  right  belonging  to  all 
States,  when  did  we  give  it  up?  You  say  Congress  has  a  right  to 
pass  rules  and  regulations  concerning  the  Territory  and  otiier 
property  of  the  United  States.  Very  well.  Does  that  exclude 
those  whose  blood  and  money  paid  for  it?  Does  "dispose  of" 
mean  to  rob  the  rightful  owners?  You  must  show  a  better  title 
than  that,  or  a  better  sword  than  we  have. 

What,  then,  will  you  take?  You  will  take  nothing  but  your 
own  judgment;  that  is,  you  will  not  only  judge  for  yourselves, 
not  only  discard  the  court,  discard  our  construction,  discard  the 
practise  of  the  government,  but  you  will  drive  us  out,  simply 
because  you  will  it.  Come  and  ao  it!  You  have  sapped  the 
foundations  of  society;  you  have  destroyed  almost  all  nope  of 
peace.  In  a  compact  where  there  is  no  common  arbiter,  where 
the  parties  finally  decide  for  themselves,  the  sword  alone  at  last 
becomes  the  real,  if  not  the  constitutional,  arbiter.  Your  party 
says  that  you  will  not  take  the  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court. 
You  said  so  at  Chicago;  you  said  so  in  committee;  every  man  of 
you  in  both  Houses  says  so.  What  are  you  going  to  do?  You 
say  we  shall  submit  to  your  construction.  We  shall  do  it,  if 
you  can  make  us;  but  not  otherwise,  or  in  any  other  manner. 
That  is  settled.  You  may  call  it  secession,  or  you  may  call 
it  revolution;  but  there  is  a  big  fact  standing  before  you, 
ready  to  oppose  you — ^that  fact  is,  freemen  with  arms  in  their 




My  Fellow  Citizens: — No  people  on  earth  have  more  cause 
to  be  thankful  than  ours,  and  tnis  is  said  reverently,  in  no  spirit 
of  boastfulness  in  our  own  strength,  but  with  gratitude  to  the 
Giver  of  Good,  Who  has  blessed  us  with  the  conditions  which 
have  enabled  us  to  achieve  so  large  a  measure  of  well-being  and 

To  us  as  a  people  it  has  been  ^pranted  to  lay  the  foundations  of 
our  national  life  in  a  new  contment.  We  are  the  heirs  of  the 
ages,  and  yet  we  have  had  to  pay  few  of  the  penalties  which  in 
old  countries  are  exacted  by  the  dead  hand  of  a  bygone  civiliza- 
tion. We  have  not  been  oblif^ed  to  fight  for  our  existence  against 
any  alien  race;  and  yet  our  life  has  c^ed  for  the  vigor  and  c^ort 
without  which  the  manlier  and  hardier  virtues  wither  away. 

Under  such  conditions  it  would  be  our  own  fault  if  we  failed, 
and  the  success  which  we  have  had  in  the  past,  the  success  which 
we  confidently  believe  the  future  will  bring,  should  cause  in  us 
no  feeling  of  vainglory,  but  rather  a  deep  and  abiding  realization 
of  all  that  life  has  offered  us;  a  full  acknowledgment  of  the 
responsibility  which  is  ours;  and  a  fixed  determination  to  show 
that  under  a  free  government  a  mighty  people  can  thrive  best, 
iJike  as  regard  the  things  of  the  hoay  and  the  things  of  the  souL 

Much  has  been  given  to  us,  and  much  will  rightfully  be  ex- 
pected from  us.  We  have  duties  to  others  and  duties  to  ourselves 
— and  we  can  shirk  neither.  We  have  become  a  great  nation, 
forced  by  the  fact  of  its  greatness  into  relation  to  3ie  other  na- 
tions of  the  earth,  and  we  must  behave  as  beseems  a  people  with 
such  responsibilities. 

Toward  all  other  nations,  laxge  and  small,  our  attitude  must 
be  one  of  cordial  and  sincere  friendship.  We  must  show  not  only 
in  our  words  but  in  our  deeds  that  we  are  earnestly  desirous  of 
securing  their  good  will  by  acting  toward  them  in  a  spirit  of  just 
and  generous  recognition  of  all  their  rights. 

But  justice  and  generosity  in  a  nation,  as  in  an  individual, 
count  most  when  ^own  not  by  the  weak  but  by  the  strong. 
While  ever  careful  to  refrain  from  wronging  others,  we  must  be 
no  less  insistent  that  we  are  not  wronged  ourselves.  We  wish 
peace;  but  we  wish  the  peace  of  justice,  the  peace  of  righteous- 
ness. We  wish  it  because  we  think  it  is  right,  and  not  because 
we  are  afraid.  No  weak  nation  that  acts  rightly  and  justly 
should  ever  have  cause  to  fear,  and  no  strong  power  should  ever 
be  able  to  single  us  out  as  a  subject  for  insolent  aggression. 

Our  relations  with  the  other  powers  of  the  world  are  important; 
but  still  more  important  are  our  relations  among  ourselves.    Sudi 


growth  in  wealth,  in  population,  and  in  power,  as  a  nation  has 
seen  during  a  century  and  a  quarter  of  its  national  life,  is  inevita- 
bly accompanied  by  a  like  growth  in  the  problems  which  are  ever 
bd^ore  every  nation  that  rises  to  greatness.  Power  invariably 
means  both  responsibility  and  danger.  Our  forefathers  faced 
certain  perils  which  we  have  outgrown.  We  now  face  other  perils 
the  very  existence  of  which  it  was  impossible  that  they  should 

Modem  life  is  both  complex  and  intense,  and  the  tremendous 
changes  wrought  by  the  extraordinary  industrial  development 
of  the  half  century  are  felt  in  every  fiber  of  our  social  and  political 
being.  Never  before  have  men  tried  so  vast  and  formidable  an 
experiment  as  that  of  administering  the  affairs  of  a  continent 
under  the  forms  of  a  democratic  republic.  The  conditions  whidi 
have  told  for  our  marvelous  material  well-being,  which  have 
develcn>ed  to  a  very  high  degree  our  enerey,  self-reliance,  and 
individual  initiative,  also  have  brought  the  care  and  anxiety 
inseparable  from  the  accumulation  of  great  weedth  in  industrial 

Upon  the  success  of  our  experiment  much  depends — ^not  onlv 
as  regards  our  own  welfare,  but  as  regards  the  welfare  of  mankind. 
If  we  fail,  the  cause  of  free  self-government  throughout  the  world 
will  rock  to  its  foundations,  and  therefore  our  responsibility  is 
heavy,  to  ourselves,  to  the  world  as  it  is  to-day,  and  to  the  genera- 
tions yet  unborn. 

There  is  no  good  reason  why  we  should  fear  the  future,  but 
there  is  every  reason  why  we  should  face  it  seriously,  neither 
hiding  from  ourselves  the  gravity  of  the  problems  before  us,  nor 
fearing  to  approach  these  problems  with  the  unboiding,  unflinch- 
ing purpose  to  solve  them  aright. 

Yet  after  all,  tho  the  problems  are  new,  tho  the  tasks  set  before 
us  differ  from  the  tasks  set  before  our  fathers,  who  founded  and 
and  preserved  this  Republic,  the  spirit  in  which  these  tasks  must 
be  undertaken  and  these  problems  faced,  if  our  duty  is  to  be  well 
done,  remains  essentialfy  unchanged.  We  know  that  self- 
government  is  difficult.  We  know  that  no  people  needs  such  hi^h 
traits  of  character  as  that  people  which  seeks  to  govern  its  affau:8 
aright  through  the  freely  expressed  will  of  the  free  men  who  com- 
pose it. 

But  we  have  faith  that  we  shaU  not  prove  false  to  memories  of 
the  men  of  the  mighty  past.  They  did  their  work;  thev  left  us 
the  splendid  heritage  we  now  enjoy.  We  in  our  turn  have  an 
assured  confidence  that  we  shall  be  able  to  leave  this  heritage 
unwasted  and  enlarged  to  our  children's  children. 

To  do  so,  we  must  show,  not  merely  in  great  crises,  but  in  the 
every-day  affairs  of  life,  the  qualities  of  practical  intdligenoe,  of 
courage,  of  hardihood,  and  endurance,  and,  above  all,  the  power 
of  devotion  to  a  lofty  ideal,  which  made  great  the  men  who 


founded  this  Republic  in  the  days  of  Washington;  winch  made 
sreat  the  men  who  preserved  this  Republic  in  the  dajrs  of 
Abraham  Lincoln. 


In  our  modem  industrial  civilization  there  are  manjr  and  grave 
dangers  to  counterbalance  the  splendors  and  the  tnumphs.  It 
is  not  a  good  thing  to  see  cities  grow  at  disproportionate  speed 
relatively  to  the  country;  for  the  small  land  owners,  the  men 
who  own  their  little  homes,  and  therefore  to  a  verv  large  extent 
the  men  who  till  farms,  the  men  of  the  soil,  have  hith^to  made 
the  foundation  of  lasting  national  life  in  every  State;  and,  if  the 
foundation  becomes  either  too  weak  or  too  narrow,  tiie  super- 
structure, no  matter  how  attractive,  is  in  imminent  danger  of 

But  far  more  important  than  the  question  of  the  occupaticxi 
of  our  citizens  is  the  question  of  how  their  family  life  is  conoucted. 
No  matter  what  that  occupation  may  be,  as  long  as  there  is  a  real 
home  and  as  long  as  those  who  make  up  that  home  do  their  duty 
to  one  another,  to  their  neighbors  and  to  the  State,  it  is  of  minor 
consequence  whether  the  man's  trade  is  plied  in  the  country  or 
in  the  city,  whether  it  calls  for  the  work  of  the  hands  or  for  the 
work  of  the  head. 

No  piled-up  wealth,  no  splendor  of  material  growth,  no  bril- 
liance of  artistic  development,  will  permanently  avail  any  people 
unless  its  home  life  is  healthy,  unless  the  average  man 

honesty,  courage,  common  sense,  and  decency,  unless  he  works 
hard  and  is  wilBng  at  need  to  fight  hard;  and  unless  the  average 
woman  is  a  good  wife,  a  good  mother,  able  and  willing  to  per- 
form the  first  and  greatest  duty  of  womanhood,  able  and  willing 
to  bear,  and  to  brinf  tm  as  they  should  be  brought  up,  healthy 
children,  sound  in  body,  mind,  and  character,  and  numerous 
enough  so  that  the  race  shall  increase  and  not  decrease. 

There  are  certain  old  truths  which  will  be  true  as  long  as  this 
world  endures,  and  which  no  amount  of  progress  can  alter.  One 
of  these  is  the  truth  that  the  primary  duty  ot  the  husband  is  to  be 
the  home-maker,  the  breadwinner  tor  his  wife  and  children,  and 
that  the  primary  duty  of  the  woman  is  to  be  the  helpmate,  the 
house-wife,  and  mother.  The  wdman  should  have  ample  educa- 
tional advantages;  but  save  in  exceptional  cases  the  man  must 
be,  and  she  need  not  be,  and  generally  ought  not  to  be,  trained 
for  a  lifelong  career  as  the  family  breadwinner;   and,  therefore, 

'From  his  speech  in  Waahinffton  on  Mmroh  18,  1005,  before  the  NatiooAl 
Congrew  of  Mothers.    Printed  from  a  oopy  fumiahed  by  the  preaideiit  for 
ooUeotion,  in  reaponae  to  a  requeet. 


after  a  certain  point,  the  training  of  the  two  must  normally  be 
different  because  the  duties  of  the  two  are  normally  different. 
This  does  not  mean  inequality  of  fxmction,  but  it  does  mean  that 
normally  there  must  be  dissimilarity  of  function.  On  the  whole, 
I  think  the  duty  of  the  woman  the  more  important,  the  more 
difficult,  and  the  more  honorable  of  the  two;  on  the  whole  I 
respect  the  woman  who  does  her  duty  even  more  than  I  respect 
the  man  who  does  his. 

No  ordinaiy  work  done  by  a  man  is  either  as  hard  or  as  re- 
sponsible as  the  work  of  a  woman  who  is  bringing  up  a  family  of 
small  children;  for  upon  her  time  and  strength  demands  are  mieule 
not  only  every  hotir  of  the  day  but  often  every  hour  of  the  night. 
She  may  have  to  get  up  night  after  night  to  take  care  of  a  sick 
child,  and  yet  must  by  day  continue  to  do  all  her  household 
duties  as  wcdl ;  and  if  the  f  axnily  means  are  scant  she  must  usually 
enjoy  even  her  rare  holidays  taking  her  whole  brood  of  children 
with  her.  The  birth  pangs  make  all  men  the  debtors  of  all 
women.  Above  all  our  sympathy  and  regard  are  due  to  the 
struggling  wives  among  those  whom  Abraham  Lincoln  called 
the  plain  people,  and  whom  he  so  loved  and  trusted;  for  the  lives 
of  these  women  are  often  led  on  the  lonely  heights  of  quiet,  self- 
sacrificing  heroism. 

Just  as  the  happiest  and  most  honorable  and  most  useful  task 
that  can  be  set  any  man  is  to  earn  enough  for  the  support  of  his 
wife  and  family,  for  the  bringing  up  and  starting  in  life  of  his 
children,  so  the  most  important,  the  most  honorable  and  desira- 
ble task  which  can  be  set  any  woman  is  to  be  a  good  and  wise 
mother  in  a  home  marked  bv  self-respect  and  mutual  forbearance, 
by  willingness  to  perform  duty,  and  by  refusal  to  sink  into  self- 
indulgence  or  avoid  that  which  entails  effort  and  self-sacrifice. 
Of  course  there  are  exceptional  men  and  exceptional  women  who 
can  do  and  ought  to  do  much  more  than  this,  who  can  lead  and 
ought  to  lead  great  careers  of  outside  usefulness  in  addition  to — 
not  as  substitutes  for — ^their  home  work;  but  I  am  not  speaking 
of  exceptions;  I  am  speaking  of  the  primary  duties,  I  am  speaking 
of  the  average  citizens,  the  average  men  and  women  who  make 
up  the  nation. 

Inasmuch  as  I  am  speaking  to  an  assemblage  of  mothers,  I 
shall  have  nothing  whatever  to  say  in  praise  of  an  easy  life.  Yours 
is  the  work  which  is  never  ended.  No  mother  has  an  easy  time, 
the  most  mothers  have  very  hard  times;  and  yet  what  true 
mother  would  barter  her  experience  of  joy  and  sorrow  in  exchange 
for  a  life  of  cold  selfishness,  which  insists  upon  perpetual  amuse- 
ment and  the  avoidance  of  care,  and  which  often  finds  its  fit 
dwelling  place  in  some  flat  designed  to  furnish  with  the  least 
possible  expenditure  of  effort  the  maximum  of  comfort  and  of 
luxury,  but  in  which  there  is  literally  no  place  for  childr^i? 

The  woman  who  is  a  good  wife,  a  good  mother,  is  entitled  to 


our  respect  as  is  no  one  else;  but  she  is  entitled  to  it  only  because, 
and  so  long  as,  she  is  worthy  of  it.  Effort  and  self-sacrifice  aie 
the  law  of  worthy  life  for  the  man  as  for  the  wonmn ;  tho  neither 
the  effort  nor  the  self-sacrifice  may  be  the  same  for  the  one  as  for 
tiie  other.  I  do  not  in  the  least  believe  in  the  patient  Griselda 
type  of  woman,  in  the  woman  who  submits  to  gross  and  long 
continued  ill  treatment,  any  more  than  I  believe  in  a  man  who 
tamely  submits  to  wrongful  aggression.  No  wrong-doing  is  so 
abhorrent  as  wrong-doing  by  a  man  toward  the  wife  and  the 
children  who  should  arouse  every  tender  feeling  in  his  nature. 
Selfishness  toward  them,  lack  of  tenderness  toward  them,  lade 
of  consideration  for  them,  above  all,  brutality^  in  any  form  toward 
them,  should  arouse  the  heartiest  scorn  and  indignation  in  every 
upright  soul. 

I  believe  in  the  woman  keeping  her  self-respect  just  as  I  believe 
in  the  man  doing  so.  I  believe  in  her  rights  just  as  much  as  I 
believe  in  the  man's,  and  indeed  a  little  more;  and  I  regard 
marriage  as  a  partnership,  in  which  each  partner  is  in  honor 
bound  to  think  of  the  rignts  of  the  other  as  well  as  of  his  or  her 
own.  But  I  think  that  tne  duties  are  even  more  important  than 
the  rights;  and  in  the  long  run  I  think  that  the  reward  is  ampler 
and  greater  for  duty  wefi  done,  than  for  the  insistence  upon 
individual  rights,  necessary  tho  this,  too,  must  often  be.  Your 
duty  is  hard,  your  responsibility  great;    but  neatest  of  all  is 

four  reward.    I  do  not  pity  you  in  the  least.    On  the  contrary, 
feel  respect  and  admiration  for  you. 

Into  the  woman's  keeping  is  committed  the  destiny  of  the 
generations  to  come  after  us.  In  bringing  up  your  children  you 
mothers  must  remember  that  while  it  is  essential  to  be  loving 
and  tender  it  is  no  less  essential  to  be  wise  and  firm.  Foolishness 
and  affection  must  not  be  treated  as  interchangeable  terms; 
and  besides  training  your  sons  and  daughters  in  the  softer  and 
milder  virtues,  you  must  seek  to  give  them  those  stem  and  hardy 
qualities  which  in  after  life  they  will  surely  need.  Some  children 
will  go  wrong  in  spite  of  the  best  training;  and  some  will  go 
right  even  when  their  surroundings  are  most  unfortunate;  never- 
theless an  immense  amount  depends  upon  the  family  traininsj. 
If  you  mothers  through  weakness  bring  up  your  sons  to  be  selfi^ 
and  to  think  only  of  themselves,  you  wHl  oe  re^)onsible  for  much 
sadness  among  the  women  who  are  to  be  their  wives  in  the  future. 
If  you  let  your  daughters  grow  up  idle,  perhaps  under  the  mis- 
taken impression  that  as  you  yourselves  nave  nad  to  work  hard 
thev  shaU  know  only  enjoyment,  you  are  preparing  them  to  be 
useless  to  others  and  burdens  to  themselves.  Teach  boys  and 
girls  alike  that  they  are  not  to  look  forward  to  lives  spent  in 
avoiding  difficulties,  but  to  lives  spent  in  overcoming  difficulties. 
Teach  them  that  work,  for  themselves  and  also  for  others,  is  not 
a  curse  but  a  blessing;  seek  to  make  them  happy,  to  make  them 


enjoy  life,  but  seek  also  to  make  them  face  life  with  the  steadfast 
resolution  to  wrest  success  from  labor  and  adversity,  and  to  do 
their  whole  duty  before  God  and  to  man.  Surely  she  who  can  thus 
train  her  sons  and  her  daughters  is  thrice  fortunate  among  women. 

There  are  many  good  people  who  are  denied  the  supreme  bless- 
ing of  children,  and  for  these  we  have  the  respect  and  sjrmpathy 
always  due  to  those  who,  from  no  fault  of  their  own,  are  denied 
any  of  the  other  great  blessings  of  life.  But  the  man  or  woman 
who  deliberately  foregoes  these  blessings,  whether  from  vicious- 
ness,  coldness,  shallow-heartedness,  self-indulgence,  or  mere 
failure  to  appreciate  aright  the  difference  between  the  all- 
important  and  the  unimportant, — ^why,  such  a  creature  merits 
contempt  as  hearty  as  any  visited  upon  the  soldier  who  nms 
away  in  battle,  or  upon  the  man  who  refuses  to  work  for  the 
support  of  those  dependent  upon  him,  and  who  tho  able-bodied 
is  yet  content  to  eat  in  idleness  the  bread  which  others  provide. 

The  existence  of  women  of  this  type  forms  one  of  the  most 
unpleasant  and  unwholesome  features  of  modem  life.  If  any 
one  is  so  dim  of  vision  as  to  fail  to  see  what  a  thoroughly  unlovely 
creature  such  a  woman  is  I  wish  they  would  read  Judge  Robert 
Grant's  novel  "Unleavened  Bread,"  ponder  seriously  the  char- 
acter of  Selma,  and  think  of  the  fate  that  would  surely  overcome 
any  nation  which  developed  its  average  and  typical  woman  aloxig 
such  lines.  Unfortunately  it  would  be  untrue  to  say  that  this 
type  exists  only  in  American  novels.  That  it  also  existe  in  Ameri- 
can life  is  made  unpleasantly  evident  by  the  statistics  as  to  the 
dwindling  families  in  some  localities.  It  is  made  evident  in 
equally  sinister  fashion  by  the  census  statistics  as  to  divorce, 
which  are  fairly  appalling;  for  easy  divorce  is  now  as  it  ever  has 
been,  a  bane  to  any  nation,  a  curse  to  society,  a  menace  to  the 
home,  an  incitement  to  married  unhappiness  and  to  immorality, 
an  evil  thing  for  men  and  a  still  more  hideous  evil  for  women. 
These  tmpleasant  tendencies  in  our  American  life  are  made 
evident  by  articles  such  as  those  which  I  actually  read  not  long 
ago  in  a  certain  paper,  where  a  clergyman  was  quoted,  seemingly 
with  approval,  as  expressing  the  general  American  attitude  when 
he  saia  that  the  ambition  of  any  save  a  very  rich  man  should  be 
to  rear  two  children  only,  so  as  to  give  his  children  an  opportunity 
"to  taste  a  few  of  the  good  things  of  life." 

This  man,  whose  profession  and  calling  should  have  made  him 
a  moral  teacher,  actually  set  before  others  the  ideal,  not  of  train- 
ing children  to  do  their  duty,  not  of  sending  them  forth  with 
stout  hearts  and  ready  minds  to  win  triumphs  for  themselves 
and  their  country,  not  of  allowing  them  the  opportunity,  and 
giving  them  the  privilege  of  making  their  own  place  in  the  world, 
but,  forsooth,  of  keeping  the  number  of  children  so  limited  that 
thejr  might  "taste  a  few  good  things!"  The  way  to  give  a  child 
a  fair  chance  in  life  is  not  to  bring  it  up  in  luxury,  but  to  see  that 


it  has  the  kind  of  training  that  will  give  it  strength  of  character. 
Even  apart  from  the  vital  question  of  national  life,  and  regarding 
only  the  individual  interest  of  the  children  themselves,  happi- 
ness in  the  true  sense  is  a  hundredfold  more  apt  to  come  to  any 
given  member  of  a  healthy  family  of  healthy-minded  children, 
well  brought  up,  well  educated,  but  taught  that  they  must  shift 
for  themselves,  must  win  their  own  way,  and  by  their  own  exer- 
tions make  their  own  positions  of  usefulness,  than  it  is  apt  to 
come  to  those  whose  parents  themselves  have  acted  on  and  have 
trained  their  children  to  act  on,  the  selfish  and  sordid  theory 
that  the  whole  end  of  life  is  to  "taste  a  few  good  things." 

The  intelligence  of  the  remark  is  on  a  par  with  its  morality; 
for  the  most  rudimentary  mental  process  would  have  shown  the 
speaker  that  if  the  average  family  in  which  there  are  children 
contained  but  two  children  the  nation  as  a  whole  would  decrease 
in  population  so  rapidly  that  in  two  or  three  generations  it  would 
very  deservedly  be  on  the  point  of  extiaction,  so  that  the  people 
who  had  acted  on  this  base  and  selfish  doctrine  wotdd  be  giving 
place  to  others  with  braver  and  more  robust  ideals.  Nor  would 
such  a  result  be  in  any  way  regrettable;  for  a  race  that  practised 
such  doctrine — that  is,  a  race  that  practised  race  suicide — ^would 
thereby  conclusively  show  that  it  was  unfit  to  exist,  and  that  it 
had  better  give  place  to  people  who  had  not  forgotten  the  primary 
laws  of  their  being. 

To  sum  up,  then,  the  whole  matter  is  simple  enough.  If  either 
a  race  or  an  individual  prefers  the  pleasure  of  more  effortless 
ease,  of  self-indulgence,  to  the  infinitely  deeper,  the  infinitely 
higher  pleasures  that  come  to  those  who  know  the  toil  and  the 
weariness,  but  also  the  joy,  of  hard  duty  well  done,  why,  that 
race  or  that  individual  must  inevitably  in  the  end  pay  the  penalty 
of  leading  a  life  both  vapid  and  ignoble.  No  man  and  no  woman 
really  worthy  of  the  name  can  care  for  the  life  spent  solely  or 
chiefly  in  the  avoidance  of  risk  and  trouble  and  labor.  Save  in 
exceptional  cases  the  prizes  worth  having  in  life  must  be  paid 
for,  and  the  life  worth  living  must  be  a  life  of  work  for  a  worthy 
end,  and  ordinarily  of  work  more  for  others  than  for  one's  self. 

The  woman's  task  is  not  easy — no  task  worth  doing  is  easy — 
but  in  doing  it,  and  when  she  has  done  it,  there  shall  come  to  her 
the  highest  and  holiest  joy  known  to  mankind;  and  having  done 
it,  she  shall  have  the  reward  prophesied  in  Scripture;  for  her 
husband  and  her  children,  yes,  and  all  people  who  realize  that 
her  work  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  national  happiness  and 
greatness,  shall  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed. 




From  a  speech  opening  the  National  Democratic 
Convention  at  Baltimore,  Md.,  June,  1912. 

It  is  not  the  wild  and  cruel  methods  of  revolution  and  violence 
that  are  needed  to  correct  the  abuses  incident  to  our  Government 
as  to  all  things  human.  Neither  material  nor  moral  progress 
lies  that  way.  We  have  made  our  Government  and  otir  com- 
plicated institutions  by  appeals  to  reason,  seeking  to  educate 
all  our  people  that,  day  after  day,  year  after  year,  century  after 
century,  they  may  see  more  clearly,  act  more  justly,  become 
more  and  more  attached  to  the  fundamental  ideas  that  underlie 
our  society.  If  we  are  to  preserve  undiminished  the  heritage 
bequeathed  us,  and  add  to  it  those  accretions  without  which 
society  would  perish,  we  shall  need  all  the  powers  that  the  school, 
the  church,  the  court,  the  deliberative  assembly,  and  the  quiet 
thought  of  otir  people  can  bring  to  bear. 

We  are  called  upon  to  do  battle  against  the  unfaithful  guardians 
of  our  Constitution  and  liberties  and  the  hordes  of  ignorance 
which  are  pushing  forward  only  to  the  ruin  of  our  social  and 
governmental  fabric. 

Too  long  has  the  country  endured  the  offenses  of  the  leaders  of  a 
party  which  once  knew  greatness.  Too  long  have  we  been  blind  to 
the  bacchanal  of  corruption.  Too  long  have  we  listlessly  watched  the 
assembling  of  the  forces  that  threaten  our  country  and  our  firesides. 

The  time  has  come  when  the  salvation  of  the  country  demands 
the  restoration  to  place  and  power  of  men  of  high  ideals  who  will 
wage  xmceasing  war  against  corruption  in  politics,  who  will 
enforce  the  law  against  both  rich  and  poor,  and  who  will  treat 
guilt  as  personal  and  ptmish  it  accordingly. 

What  is  our  duty?  To  think  alike  as  to  men  and  measures? 
Impossible !  Even  for  our  great  party !  There  is  not  a  reactionary 
among  us.  AH  Democrats  are  Progressives.  But  it  is  inevitably 
human  that  we  shall  not  all  agree  that  in  a  single  highway  is 
found  the  only  road  to  progress,  or  each  make  the  same  man  of 
aU  our  worthy  candidates  his  first  choice. 

It  is  impossible,  however,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  put  aside  all 
selfishness,  to  consent  cheerftdly  that  the  majority  shall  speak 
for  each  of  us,  and  to  march  out  of  this  convention  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  intoning  the  praises  of  otir  chosen  leader — and  that 
will  be  his  due,  whichever  of  the  honorable  and  able  men  now 
claiming  our  attention  shaU  be  chosen. 




At  the  National  Democratic  Convention,  Baltimore. 

Maryland,  June,  1912. 

The  New  Jersey  delegation  is  commissioned  to  represent  the 
great  cause  of  Democracy  and  to  offer  you  as  its  militant  and 
triumphant  leader  a  scholar,  not  a  charlatan;  a  statesman,  not 
a  doctrinaire;  a  profound  lawyer,  not  a  splitter  of  legal  hairs; 
a  political  economist,  not  an  egotistical  theorist;  a  practical 
politician,  who  constructs,  modifies,  restrains,  without  disturb- 
ance and  destruction;  a  resistless  debater  and  consummate 
master  of  statement,  not  a  mere  sophist;  a  humanitarian,  not  a 
defamer  of  characters  and  lives;  a  man  whose  mind  is  at  once 
cosmopolitan  and  composite  of  America;  a  gentleman  of  unpre- 
tentious habits,  with  the  fear  of  God  in  his  heart  and  the  love  of 
mankind  exhibited  in  every  act  of  his  life;  above  all  a  public 
servant  who  has  been  tried  to  the  uttermost  and  never  found 
wanting — matchless,  unconquerable,  the  ultimate  Democrat, 
Woodrow  Wilson. 

New  Jersey  has  reasons  for  her  course.  Let  us  not  be  deceived 
in  our  premises.  Cam^gns  of  vilification,  corruption  and  false 
pretence  -have  lost  their  useftdness.  The  evolution  of  national 
energy  is  towards  a  more  intelligent  morality  in  politics  and  in 
all  other  relations.  The  situation  admits  of  no  compromise. 
The  temper  and  purpose  of  the  American  public  will  tolerate 
no  other  view.  The  indifference  of  the  American  people  to 
politics  has  disappeared.  Any  platform  and  any  canoidate  not 
conforming  to  this  vast  social  and  commerdal  behest  will  go 
down  to  ignominious  defeat  at  the  polls. 

Men  are  known  by  what  they  say  and  do.  They  are  known 
by  those  who  hate  and  oppose  them.  Many  years  ago  Woodrow 
Wilson  said,  "No  man  is  great  who  thinks  himself  so,  and  no 
man  is  good  who  does  not  try  to  secure  the  happiness  and  com- 
fort of  others."  This  is  the  secret  of  his  life.  TTie  deeds  of  this 
moral  and  intellectual  giant  are  known  to  all  men.  They  accord, 
not  with  the  shams  and  false  pretences  of  politics,  but  make 
national  harmony  with  the  miUions  of  patriots  determined  to 
correct  the  wrongs  of  plutocracy  and  reestablish  the  maxims  of 
American  liberty  in  all  their  regnant  beauty  and  practical  effec- 
tiveness. New  Jersey  loves  Woodrow  Wilson  not  for  the  enemies 
he  has  made.  New  Jersey  loves  him  for  what  he  is.  New  Jersey 
areues  that  Woodrow  Wilson  is  the  only  candidate  who  can  not 
only  make  Democratic  success  a  certainty,  but  secure  the 
electoral  vote  of  almost  every  State  in  the  Union. 

New  Jersey  will  indorse  his  nomination  by  a  majority  of 
100,000  of  her  liberated  citizens.  We  are  not  building  for  a  day, 
or  even  a  generation,  but  for  all  time.    New  Jersey  believes  that 


there  is  an  omniscience  in  national  instinct.  That  instinct 
centers  in  Woodrow  Wilson.  He  has  been  in  political  life  less 
than  two  years.  He  has  had  no  organization;  only  a  practical 
ideal — the  reSstablishment  of  equal  opportunity.  Not  his  deeds 
alone,  not  his  immortal  words  alone,  not  his  personality  alone, 
not  his  matchless  powers  alone,  but  all  combined  compel  national 
faith  and  confidence  in  him.  Every  crisis  evolves  its  master. 
Time  and  circumstance  have  evolved  Woodrow  Wilson.  The 
North,  the  South,  the  East,  and  the  West  unite  in  him.  New 
Jersey  appeals  to  this  convention  to  give  the  nation  Woodrow 
Wilson,  that  he  may  open  the  gates  of  opportunity  to  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  under  our  flag,  by  reforming  abuses,  and 
thereby  teaching  them,  in  his  matchless  words,  "  to  release  their 
energies  intelligently,  that  peace,  justice  and  prosperity  may 
reign."  New  Jersey  rejoices,  through  her  freely  chosen  repre- 
sentatives, to  name  for  the  presidency  of  the  United  States  the 
Princeton  schoolmaster,  Woodrow  Wilson. 



Delivered  at  the  annual  banquet  of  the  Boston  Mer- 
chants' Association,  at  Boston,  Mass.,  December  12,'  1889. 

Mr.  President: — ^Bidden  by  your  invitation  to  a  discussion 
of  the  race  problem — ^forbidden  by  occasion  to  make  a  political 
speech — I  appreciate,  in  trying  to  reconcile  orders  with  pro- 
priety, the  perplexity  of  the  little  maid,  who,  bidden  to  learn  to 
swim,  was  yet  adjured,  *'  Now,  go,  my  darling;  hang  your  clothes 
on  a  hickory  limb,  and  don't  go  near  the  water." 

The  stoutest  apostle  of  the  Church,  they  say,  is  the  missionary, 
and  the  missionary,  wherever  he  unfurls  his  flag,  will  never  find 
himself  in  deeper  need  of  unction  and  address  than  I,  bidden 
to-night  to  plant  the  standard  of  a  Southern  Democrat  in  Boston's 
banquet  hall,  and  to  discuss  the  problem  of  the  races  in  the  home 
of  Phillips  and  of  Sumner.  But,  Mr.  President,  if  a  purpose  to 
speak  in  perfect  frankness  and  sincerity;  if  earnest  understand- 
ing of  the  vast  interests  involved;  if  a  consecrating  sense  of  what 
disaster  may  follow  further  misunderstanding  and  estrangement; 
if  these  may  be  counted  upon  to  steadjr  undisciplined  speech  and 
to  strengthen  an  untried  arm — ^then,  sir,  I  shall  find  the  courage 
to  procrod. 

Happy  am  I  that  this  mission  has  brought  my  feet  at  last  to 
press  New  England's  historic  soil  and  my  eyes  to  the  knowledge 
of  her  beauty  and  her  thrift.  Here  within  touch  of  Plymouth 
Rock  and  Bunker  Hill — where  Webster  thundered  and  Long- 
fellow sang,  Emerson  thought  and  Channing  preached — here, 
in  the  cradle  of  American  letters  and  almost  of  American  Uberty, 


I  hasten  to  make  the  obeisance  that  every  American  owes  New 
England  wbg^  first  he  stands  uncovered  in  her  mighty  preaeooe. 
Strange  api>llHtion!  This  stem  and  unique  figure — carved  from 
the  ocean  and  the  wilderness — its  majesty  kindling  and  growing 
amid  the  storms  of  winter  and  of  wars — until  at  last  the  gloom 
was  broken,  its  beauty  disclosed  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  heroic 
workers  rested  at  its  base — ^while  startled  kings  and  emperors 
gazed  and  marveled  that  from  the  rude  touch  of  this  handful 
cast  on  a  bleak  and  unknown  shore  should  have  come  the  em- 
bodied genius  of  human  government  and  the  perfected  model  of 
htunan  Uberty !  God  bless  the  memory  of  those  immortal  workers, 
and  prosper  the  fortunes  of  their  hving  sons — and  perpetuate 
the  inspiration  of  their  handiwork. 

Two  years  ago,  sir,  I  spoke  some  words  in  New  York  that 
catight  the  attention  of  the  North.  As  I  stand  here  to  reiterate, 
as  I  have  done  everywhere,  every  word  I  then  uttered — ^to  de- 
clare that  the  sentiments  I  then  avowed  were  universally  ap- 
proved in  the  South — I  realize  that  the  confidence  begotten  by 
that  speech  is  l£U*gely  responsible  for  my  presence  here  to-night. 
I  shotdd  dishonor  myself  if  I  betrayed  that  confidence  by  utter- 
ing one  insincere  word,  or  by  withholding  one  essential  element 
of  the  truth.  Apropos  of  this  last,  let  me  confess,  Mr.  President, 
before  the  praise  of  New  England  has  died  on  my  lips,  that  I 
believe  the  best  product  of  her  present  life  is  the  procession  of 
seventeen  thousand  Vermont  Democrats  that  for  twenty-two 
years,  undiminished  by  death,  unrecruited  by  birth  or  conver- 
sion, have  marched  over  their  rugged  hills,  cast  their  Democratic 
ballots  and  gone  back  home  to  pray  for  their  unr^;enerate 
neighbors,  and  awake  to  read  the  record  of  twentv-six  thousand 
Republican  majority.  May  the  God  of  the  helpless  and  the 
heroic  hdp  them,  and  may  their  sturdy  tribe  increase. 

Far  to  the  South,  Mr.  President,  separated  from  this  section 
by  a  line — once  defined  in  irrepressible  difference,  once  traced 
in  fratricidal  blood,  and  now,  thank  God,  but  a  vanishing  shadow 
— ^lies  the  fairest  and  richest  domain  of  this  earth.  It  is  Qie  home 
of  a  brave  and  hospitable  people.  There  is  centered  all  that  can 
please  or  prosper  humankind.  A  perfect  climate  above  a  fertile 
soil  yields  to  the  husbandman  every  product  of  the  temperate 
zone.  There,  by  night  the  cotton  whitens  beneath  the  stars, 
and  by  day  the  wheat  locks  the  sunshine  in  its  bearded  sheaf. 
In  the  same  field  the  clover  steals  the  fragrance  of  the  wind,  and 
tobacco  catches  the  quick  aroma  of  the  rains.  There  are  moun- 
tains stored  with  exhaustless  treasures;  forests — ^vast  and 
primeval;  and  rivers  that,  tumbling  or  loitering,  run  wanton 
to  the  sea.  Of  the  three  essential  items  of  all  industries — cotton, 
iron  and  wood — ^that  region  has  easy  control.  In  cotton,  a  fixed 
monopoly — in  iron,  proven  supremacy — in  timber,  the  reserve 
supply  of  the  Republic.     From  this  assured  and  permanent 


advantage,  against  which  artificial  conditions  cannot  much 
lonp[er  prevail,  has  grown  an  amazing  system  of  industries.  Not 
mamtamed  by  human  contrivance  of  tariff  or  capital,  afar  off 
from  the  fullest  and  cheapest  source  of  supply,  but  resting  in 
divine  assurance,  within  touch  of  field  and  mine  and  forest — ^not 
set  amid  costly  farms  from  which  competition  has  driven  the 
farmer  in  despair,  but  amid  cheap  and  sunny  lands,  rich  with 
agriculture,  to  which  neither  season  nor  soil  has  set  a  limit — this 
system  of  industries  is  mounting  to  a  splendor  that  shall  dazzle 
and  illumine  the  world.  That,  sir,  is  the  picture  and  the  promise 
of  my  home — a  land  better  and  fairer  than  I  have  told  you,  and 
yet  but  fit  setting  in  its  material  excellence  for  the  loyal  and 
gentle  quality  of  its  citizenship.  Against  that,  sir,  we  have  New 
England,  recruiting  the  Republic  from  its  sturdy  loins,  shaking 
from  its  overcrowded  hives  new  swarms  of  workers,  and  touching 
this  land  all  over  with  its  energy  and  its  courage.  And  yet — 
while  in  the  Eldorado  of  which  I  have  told  you  but  fifteen  per 
cent  of  its  lands  are  cultivated,  its  mines  scarcely  touched,  and 
its  population  so  scant  that,  were  it  set  equidistant,  the  sound 
of  the  human  voice  could  not  be  heard  from  Virginia  to  Texas — 
while  on  the  threshold  of  nearly  every  house  in  New  England 
stands  a  son,  seeking,  with  troubled  eyes,  some  new  land  in 
which  to  carry  his  modest  patrimony,  the  strange  fact  remains 
that  in  1880  the  South  had  fewer  northern-bom  citizens  than 
she  had  in  1870— fewer  in  70  than  in  '60.  Why  is  this?  Why  is 
it,  sir,  though  the  section  line  be  now  but  a  mist  that  the  breath 
may  dispel,  fewer  men  of  the  North  have  crossed  it  ovier  to  the 
South,  than  when  it  was  crimson  with  the  best  blood  of  the 
Republic,  or  even  when  the  slaveholder  stood  guard  every  inch 
of  its  way? 

There  can  be  but  one  answer.  It  is  the  very  problem  we  are 
now  to  consider.  The  key  that  opens  that  problem  will  unlock 
to  the  world  the  fairest  half  of  this  Republic,  and  free  the  halted 
feet  of  thousands  whose  eyes  are  already  kindling  with  its  beauty. 
Better  than  this,  it  will  open  the  hearts  of  brothers  for  thirty 
years  estranged,  and  dasp  m  lasting  comradeship  a  million  han(& 
now  withheld  in  doubt.  Nothing,  sir,  but  this  problem  and  the 
suspicions  it  breeds,  hinders  a  clear  tmderstanding  and  a  perfect 
tmion.  Nothing  else  stands  between  us  and  such  love  as  bound 
Geoi^a  and  Massachusetts  at  Valley  Forge  and  Yorktown, 
chastened  by  the  sacrifices  of  Manassas  and  Gettysburg,  and 
illumined  with  the  coming  of  better  work  and  a  nobler  destinv 
than  was  ever  wrought  with  the  sword  or  sought  at  the  cannon  s 

If  this  does  not  invite  your  patient  hearing  to-night — ^hear 
one  thing  more.  My  people,  your  brothers  in  the  South — ^brothers 
in  blood,  in  destiny,  in  aU  that  is  best  in  our  past  and  future — are 
so  beset  with  this  problem  that  their  very  existence  depends  on 


its  right  solution.  Nor  are  they  wholly  to  blame  for  its  presence. 
The  slave-ships  of  the  Republic  sailed  from  your  ports,  the  slaves 
worked  in  our  fields.  You  will  not  defend  the  traffic,  nor  I  the 
institution.  But  I  do  here  declare  that  in  its  wise  and  humane 
administration  in  lifting  the  slave  to  heights  of  which  he  had  not 
dreamed  in  his  savage  home,  and  giving  him  a  happiness  he  has 
not  yet  found  in  fre^om,  our  fathers  leit  their  sons  a  saving  and 
excellent  heritage.  In  the  storm  of  war  this  institution  was  lost. 
I  thank  God  as  heartily  as  you  do  that  human  slavery  is  gone 
forever  from  American  soil.  But  the  f reedman  remains.  With 
him,  a  problem  without  precedent  or  parallel.  Note  its  appallmg 
conditions.  Two  utterly  dissimilar  races  on  the  same  soil — ^witn 
equal  political  and  civil  rights — ^almost  equal  in  numbers,  but 
terribly  unequal  in  intelligence  and  responsibility — each  pledged 
against  fusion — one  for  a  century  in  servitude  to  the  other,  and 
freed  at  last  by  a  desolating  war,  the  experiment  sought  by  neither 
but  approached  by  both  with  doubt — ^these  are  the  conditions. 
Under  these,  adverse  at  every  point,  we  are  required  to  carry 
these  two  races  in  peace  and  honor  to  the  end. 

Never,  sir,  has  such  a  task  been  given  to  mortal  stewardship. 
Never  before  in  this  Republic  has  the  white  race  divided  on  the 
rights  of  an  alien  race.  The  red  man  was  cut  down  as  a  weed 
because  he  hindered  the  way  of  the  American  citizen.  The  yellow 
man  was  shut  out  of  this  Republic  because  he  is  an  alien,  and 
inferior.  The  red  man  was  owner  of  the  land — ^the  yellow  man 
was  highly  civilized  and  assimilable — ^but  they  hindered  both 
sections  and  are  gone!  But  the  black  man,  anecting  but  one 
section,  is  clothed  with  every  privil^e  of  government  and  pinned 
to  the  soil,  and  my  people  commanded  to  make  good  at  any 
hazard,  and  at  any  cost,  his  full  and  equal  heirship  of  American 
privilege  and  prosperity.  It  matters  not  that  every  other  race 
has  been  routed  or  excluded  without  rhyme  or  reason.  It  matters 
not  that  wherever  the  whites  and  the  blacks  have  touched,  in 
any  era  or  in  any  clime,  there  has  been  an  irreconcilable  violence. 
It  matters  not  that  no  two  races,  however  similar,  have  lived 
anywhere,  at  any  time,  on  the  same  soil  with  eqiial  rights  in 
peace!  In  spite  of  these  things  we  are  commanded  to  make  good 
this  change  of  American  policy  which  has  not  perhaps  changed 
American  prejudice — ^to  make  certain  here  what  has  elsewhere 
been  impossible  between  whites  and  blacks — and  to  reverse, 
under  the  very  worst  conditions,  the  universal  verdict  of  racial 
history.  And  driven,  sir,  to  this  superhuman  task  with  an  im- 
patience  that  brooks  no  delay — a  rigor  that  accepts  no  excuse — 
and  a  suspicion  that  discourages  frankness  and  sincerity.  We 
do  not  shrink  from  this  trial.  It  is  so  interwoven  with  our  in- 
dustrial fabric  that  we  cannot  disentangle  it  if  we  wotdd — so 
bound  up  in  our  honorable  obligation  to  the  world,  that  we  would 
not  if  we  cotdd.    Can  we  solve  it?    The  God  who  gave  it  into 


our  hands,  He  alone  can  know.  But  this  the  weakest  and  wisest 
of  us  do  know:  we  cannot  solve  it  with  less  than  your  tolerant 
and  patient  sympathy — ^with  less  than  the  knowleidge  that  the 
blood  that  runs  m  your  veins  is  our  blood — and  that»  when  we 
have  done  our  best,  whether  the  issue  be  lost  or  won,  we  shall 
feel  your  strong  arms  about  us  and  hear  the  beating  of  your 
approving  hearts! 

The  resolute,  clear-headed,  broad-minded  men  of  the  South 
— ^the  men  whose  genius  made  glorious  every  page  of  the  first 
seventy  years  of  American  history — ^whose  courage  and  fortitude 
you  tested  in  five  years  of  the  fiercest  war — whose  energy  has 
made  bricks  without  straw  and  spread  splendor  amid  the  ashes 
of  their  war-wasted  homes — ^these  men  wear  this  problem  in 
their  hearts  and  brains,  by  day  and  by  night.  They  realize,  as 
you  cannot,  what  this  problem  means — ^what  they  owe  to  this 
kindly  and  dependent  race — ^the  measure  of  their  debt  to  the 
world  in  whose  despite  they  defended  and  maintained  slavery. 
And  though  their  feet  are  hindered  in  its  undergrowth,  and  their 
march  cumbered  with  its  burdens,  they  have  lost  neither  the 
patience  from  which  comes  clearness,  nor  the  faith  from  which 
comes  courage.  Nor,  sir,  when  in  passionate  moments  is  dis- 
closed to  them  that  vague  and  awj^  shadow,  with  its  lurid 
abysses  and  its  crimson  staias,  into  which  I  pray  God  they  may 
never  go,  are  they  struck  with  more  of  apprehension  than  is 
needed  to  complete  their  consecration! 

Such  is  the  temper  of  my  people.  But  what  of  the  problem 
itself?  Mr.  President,  we  need  not  go  one  step  further  unless 
you  concede  rifi;ht  here  that  the  people  I  speak  for  are  as  honest, 
as  sensible  and  as  just  as  your  people,  seeking  as  earnestly  as 
you  would  in  their  place  to  rightly  soive  the  problem  that  touches 
them  at  every  vitcd  point.  If  you  insist  that  they  are  ruffians, 
blindly  striving  with  bludgeon  and  shotgun  to  plunder  and 
oppress  a  race,  then  I  shall  sacrifice  my  self-respect  and  tax  your 
patience  in  vain.  But  admit  that  they  are  men  of  common  sense 
and  common  honesty,  wisely  modifying  an  environment  they 
cannot  wholly  disregard — guiding  and  controlling  as  best  they 
can  the  vicious  and  irresponsible  of  either  race — compensating 
error  with  frankness,  and  retrieving  in  patience  what  they  lost 
in  passion — and  conscious  all  the  time  that  wrong  means  ruin — 
admit  this,  and  we  may  reach  an  understanding  to-night. 

The  President  of  the  United  States,  in  his  late  message  to 
Congress,  discussing  the  plea  that  the  South  should  be  left  to 
solve  this  problem,  asks:  "Are  they  at  work  upon  it?  What 
solution  do  they  offer?  When  will  the  black  man  cast  a  free 
ballot?  When  will  he  have  the  civil  rights  that  are  his?  "  I  shall 
not  here  protest  against  a  partisanry  that,  for  the  first  time  in  our 
history,  m  time  of  peace,  has  stamped  with  the  great  seal  of  our 
government  a  stigma  upon  the  people  of  a  great  and  loyal  sec- 


tion ;  though  I  gratefully  remember  that  the  great  dead  soldier,  who 
held  the  helm  of  State  tor  the  eight  stormiest  years  of  reconstruc- 
tion, never  found  need  for  such  a  step;  and  though  there  is  no 
personal  sacrifice  I  would  not  make  to  remove  this  cruel  and 
tmjust  imputation  on  my  people  from  the  archives  of  my  country! 
But,  sir,  backed  by  a  record,  on  every  page  of  which  is  progress, 
I  venture  to  make  earnest  and  respectful  answer  to  the  questions 
that  are  asked.  We  give  to  the  world  this  year  a  crop  of  7,500,000 
bales  of  cotton,  worth  ^50,000,000,  and  its  cash  equivalent  in 
grain,  grasses  and  fruit.  This  enormous  crop  could  not  have 
come  from  the  hands  of  sullen  and  discontented  labor.  It  comes 
from  peaceftd  fields,  in  which  laughter  and  gossip  rise  above  the 
hum  of  industry,  and  contentment  runs  with  the  sin^^ing  plough. 
It  is  claimed  that  this  ignorant  labor  is  defrauded  of  its  just  hue. 
I  present  the  tax  books  of  Georgia,  which  show  that  the  negro, 
twenty-five  years  ago  a  slave,  has  in  Georgia  alone  S  10,000,000 
of  assessed  property,  worth  twice  that  much.  Does  not  that 
record  honor  him  and  vindicate  his  neighbors? 

What  people,  p^miless,  illiterate,  has  done  so  well?  For  every 
Afro-American  agitator,  stirring  the  strife  in  which  alone  he 
prospers,  I  can  show  you  a  thousand  negroes,  happy  in  their 
cabin  homes,  tilling  their  own  land  by  day,  and  at  night  taking 
from  the  lips  of  their  children  the  helpful  message  Uieir  State 
sends  them  from  the  schoolhouse  door.  And  the  schoolhouse 
itself  bears  testimony.  In  Georgia  we  added  last  year  S250,000 
to  the  school  fund,  making  a  total  of  more  than  $1,000,000 — 
and  this  in  the  face  of  prejudice  not  yet  conquered — of  the 
fact  that  the  whites  are  assessed  for  $368,000,000,  the  blacks 
for  $10,000,000,  and  yet  forty-nine  per  cent  of  the  beneficiaries 
are  black  children;  and  in  the  doubt  of  many  wise  men  if  educa- 
tion helps,  or  can  help,  our  problem.  Charleston,  with  her 
taxable  values  cut  half  in  two  since  1860,  pays  more  in  propor- 
tion for  public  schools  than  Boston.  Although  it  is  easier  to 
give  much  out  of  much  than  little  out  of  little,  the  South,  with 
one-seventh  of  the  taxable  property  of  the  coxmtry,  with  rela- 
tively larger  debt,  having  received  only  one-twelfth  as  much  of 
public  lands,  and  having  back  of  its  tax  books  none  of  the 
$500,000,000  of  bonds  that  enrich  the  North — ^and  though  it 
pays  annually  $26,000,000  to  your  section  as  pensions — ^yet 
gives  nearly  one-sixth  to  the  public  school  ftmd.  The  South 
since  1865  has  spent  $122,000,000  in  education,  and  this  year  is 
pledged  to  $32,000,000  more  for  State  and  city  schools,  although 
the  blacks,  paying  one-thirtieth  of  the  taxes,  get  nearly  one-half 
of  the  fund.  Go  into  our  fields  and  see  whites  and  blacks  working 
side  by  side.  On  our  buildings  in  the  same  squad.  In  our  shops 
at  the  same  forge.  Often  the  blacks  crowd  the  whites  from  work, 
or  lower  wages  by  their  greater  need  and  simpler  habits,  and  yet 
are  permitted,  because  we  want  to  bar  them  from  no  avenue 


in  which  their  feet  are  fitted  to  tread.  They  could  not  there  be 
elected  orators  of  white  universities,  as  they  have  been  here,  but 
they  do  enter  there  a  hundred  useful  trades  that  are  closed 
against  them  here.  We  hold  it  better  and  wiser  to  tend  the  weeds 
in  the  garden  than  to  water  the  exotic  in  the  window. 

In  the  South  there  are  negro  lawyers,  teachers,  editors,  den- 
tists, doctors,  preachers,  multiplving  with  the  increasing  ability 
of  their  race  to  support  them,  in  villages  and  towns  they  have 
their  mflitary  companies  equipped  from  the  armories  of  the 
State,  their  churches  and  societies  built  and  supported  largely 
by  their  neighbors.  What  is  the  testimony  of  the  courts?  In 
penal  legislation  we  have  steadily  reduced  felonies  to  mis- 
demeanors, and  have  led  the  world  m  mitigating  punishment  for 
crime,  that  we  might  save,  as  far  as  possible,  this  dependent 
race  from  its  own  weakness.  In  our  penitentiary  record  sixty 
per  cent  of  the  prosecutors  are  n^^oes,  and  in  every  court  the 
negro  criminal  strikes  the  colored  juror,  that  white  men  may 
judge  his  case. 

In  the  North,  one  negro  in  every  186  is  in  jail — in  the  South, 
only  one  in  446.  In  the  North  the  percentage  of  negro  prisoners 
is  six  times  as  great  as  that  of  native  whites;  in  the  South,  only 
four  times  as  great.  If  prejudice  wrongs  him  in  Southern  courts, 
the  record  shows  it  to  oe  deeper  in  Northern  courts.  I  assert 
here,  and  a  bar  as  intelligent  and  uprig;ht  as  the  bar  of  Massa- 
chusetts will  solemnly  indorse  my  assertion,  that  in  the  Southern 
courts,  from  highest  to  lowest,  pleading  for  life,  liberty  or  prop- 
erty, the  negro  has  distinct  advantage  because  he  is  a  negro,  apt 
to  be  overreached,  oppressed — and  that  this  advantage  reaches 
from  the  juror  in  nudcing  his  verdict  to  the  judge  in  measuring 
his  sentence. 

Now,  Mr.  President,  can  it  be  seriously  maintained  that  we 
are  terrorizing  the  people  from  whose  willmg  hands  comes  every 
year  $1,000,(X)0,000  oi  farm  crops?  Or  have  robbed  a  people 
who,  twenty-five  years  from  unrewarded  slavery,  have  amassed 
in  one  State  $20,000,000  of  property?  Or  that  we  intend  to 
oppress  the  people  we  are  arming  every  day?  Or  deceive  them, 
when  we  are  educating  them  to  the  utmost  limit  of  our  ability? 
Or  outlaw  them,  when  We  work  side  by  side  with  them?  Or  re- 
enslave  them  under  legal  forms,  when  for  their  benefit  we  have 
even  imprudently  narrowed  the  limit  of  felonies  and  mitigated 
the  severity  of  law?  My  fellow-countrjmien,  as  you  yourselves 
may  sometimes  have  to  appeal  at  the  bar  of  human  jud^ent 
for  justice  and  for  right,  give  to  my  people  to-night  the  fair  and 
unanswerable  conclusion  of  these  incontestable  facts. 

But  it  is  claimed  that  under  this  fair  seeming  there  is  disorder 
and  violence.  This  I  admit.  And  there  will  be  until  there  is 
one  ideal  community  on  earth  after  which  we  may  pattern. 
But  how  widely  is  it  misjudged!    It  is  hard  to  measure  with 


exactness  whatever  touches  the  negro.  His  helplessness,  his 
isolation,  his  century  of  servitude, — ^these  dispose  us  to  emphasise 
and  magnify  his  wrongs.  This  disposition,  inflamed  by  prejudice 
and  partisanry,  has  led  to  injustice  and  delusion.  Lawless  men 
may  ravage  a  county  in  Iowa  and  it  is  accepted  as  an  incident — 
in  the  South,  a  drunken  row  is  declared  to  be  the  fixed  habit  of 
the  community.  Regulators  may  whip  vagabonds  in  Indiana 
by  platoons  and  it  scarcely  arrests  attention — a  chance  collision 
in  the  South  among  relatively  the  same  classes  is  gravely  accepted 
as  evidence  that  one  race  is  destro3ang  the  other.  We  might  as 
well  claim  that  the  Union  was  ungrateful  to  the  colored  soldier 
who  followed  its  flag  because  a  Grand  Army  post  in  Connecticut 
closed  its  doors  to  a  negro  veteran  as  for  you  to  give  racial 
significance  to  every  incident  in  the  South,  or  to  accept  excep- 
tional grounds  as  the  rule  of  our  society.  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who  becloud  American  honor  with  the  parade  of  the  outrages  of 
either  section,  and  belie  American  character  by  declaring  them 
to  be  significant  a^id  representative.  I  prefer  to  maintam  that 
they  are  neither,  and  stand  for  nothing  but  the  passion  and  sin 
of  our  poor  fallen  htunanity.  If  society,  like  a  machine,  were 
no  stronger  than  its  weakest  part,  I  shoidd  despair  of  both  sec- 
tions. But,  knowing  that  society,  sentient  and  responsible  in 
every  fiber,  can  mend  and  repair  tmtil  the  whole  has  the  strength 
of  the  best,  I  despair  of  neither.  These  gentlemen  who  come 
with  me  here,  knit  into  Georgia's  busy  life  as  they  are,  never 
saw,  I  dare  assert,  an  outrage  committed  on  a  negro!  And  if 
they^  did,  no  one  of  you  womd  be  swifter  to  prevent  or  punish. 
It  IS  through  them,  and  the  men  and  women  who  think  with 
them — malong  nine-tenths  of  every  Southern  commimity — that 
these  two  races  have  been  carried  thus  far  with  less  of  violence 
than  would  have  been  possible  anywhere  else  on  earth.  And  in 
their  fairness  and  courage  and  steadfastness — more  than  in  all 
the  laws  that  can  be  passed,  or  all  the  bayonets  that  can  be  mus- 
tered — is  the  hope  of^our  future. 

When  will  the  blacks  cast  a  free  ballot?  When  ignorance 
anywhere  is  not  dominated  by  the  will  of  the  intelligent;  when 
the  laborer  anywhere  casts  a  vote  unhindered  by  his  boss;  when 
the  vote  of  the  poor  anywhere  is  not  influenced  by  the  power  of 
the  rich;  when  the  strong  and  the  steadfast  do  not  everywhere 
control  the  suffrage  of  the  weak  and  shiftless — ^then,  and  not 
till  then,  will  the  ballot  of  the  negro  be  free.  The  white  people 
of  the  South  are  banded,  Mr.  President,  not  in  prejudice  against 
the  blacks — not  in  sectional  estrangement — not  in  the  hope  of 
political  dominion — ^but  in  a  deep  and  abiding  necessity.  Here 
IS  this  vast  ignorant  and  purchasable  vote — clannish,  credulous, 
impulsive,  and  passionate — ^tempting  every  art  of  the  demagogue, 
but  insensible  to  the  appeal  of  the  stateman.  Wrongly  started, 
in  that  it  was  led  into  alienation  from  its  neighbor  and  taught  to 


rely  on  the  protection  of  an  outside  force,  it  cannot  be  mei^ged 
and  lost  in  the  two  great  parties  through  logical  currents,  for 
it  lacks  political  conviction  and  even  that  information  on  which 
conviction  must  be  based.  It  must  remain  a  faction — strong 
enough  in  every  community  to  control  on  the  slightest  division 
of  ^e  whites.  Under  that  division  it  becomes  the  prev  of  the 
cunning  and  unscrupulous  of  both  parties.  Its  credulity  is 
imposed  upon,  its  patience  inflamed,  its  cupidity  tempted,  its 
impulses  misdirected — and  even  its  superstition  made  to  play 
its  part  in  a  campaign  in  which  every  interest  of  society  is  jeop- 
ardized and  every  approach  to  the  ballot-box  debauched.  It 
is  against  such  campaigns  as  this — ^the  folly  and  the  bitterness 
and  the  danger  of  whidi  every  Southern  communilv  has  drunk 
deeply — ^that  the  white  people  of  the  South  are  banded  together. 
Just  as  ^ou  in  Massachusetts  would  be  banded  if  300,000  men, 
not  one  in  a  hundred  able  to  read  his  ballot — banded  in  race 
instinct,  holding  against  you  the  memory  of  a  century  of  slavery, 
taught  by  your  late  conquerors  to  distrust  and  oppose  you,  had 
alr^dy  travestied  legislation  from  your  State  House,  and  in 
every  species  of  folly  or  villainy  had  wasted  your  substance  and 
exhausted  your  credit. 

But  admitting  the  right  of  the  whites  to  unite  against  this 
tremendous  menace,  we  are  challenged  with  the  smallness  of 
our  vote.  This  has  long  been  flippantly  charged  to  be  evidence 
and  has  now  been  solemnly  and  officially  declared  to  be  proof 
of  political  turpitude  and  baseness  on  our  part.  Let  us  see. 
Virginia — a  state  now  under  fierce  assault  for  this  alleged  crime 
— cast  in  1888  seventy-five  per  cent  of  her  vote;  Massachusetts, 
the  State  in  which  I  speak,  sixty  per  cent  of  her  vote.  Was  it 
suppression  in  Virginia  and  natural  causes  in  Massachusetts? 
"Last  month  Virginia  cast  sixty-nine  per  cent  of  her  vote;  and 
Massachusetts,  fighting  in  every  district,  cast  only  forty-nine 
per  cent  of  hers.  If  Virginia  is  condemned  because  thirty-one 
per  cent  of  her  vote  was  silent,  how  shall  this  State  escape,  in 
which  fifty-one  per  cent  was  dumb?  Let  us  enlarge  this  compari- 
son. The  sixteen  Southern  States  in  '88  cast  sixty-seven  per 
cent  of  their  total  vote — the  six  New  England  States  but  sixty- 
three  per  cent  of  theirs.  By  what  fair  rule  shall  the  stigma  be 
put  upon  one  section  while  the  other  escapes?  A  congressional 
election  in  New  York  last  week,  with  the  polling  place  in  touch 
of  every  voter,  brought  out  only  6,000  votes  of  28,000 — and  the 
lack  of  opposition  is  assigned  as  the  natural  cause.  In  a  district 
in  my  Stete,  in  which  an  opposition  speech  has  not  been  heard 
in  ten  years  and  the  polling  places  are  miles  apart — under  the 
unfair  reasoning  of  which  my  section  has  been  a  constant  victim 
— the  small  vote  is  charged  to  be  proof  of  forcible  suppression. 
In  Virginia  an  average  majority  of  12,000,  unless  hopeless  divi- 
sion of  the  minority,  was  raised  to  42,000;  in  Iowa,  m  the  same 


election,  a  majority  of  32,000  was  ^^iiped  out  and  an  oppositioa 
majority  of  8,000  was  established.  The  change  of  40,000  votes 
in  Iowa  is  accepted  as  political  revolution — in  Virginia  an  increase 
of  30,000  on  a  safe  majority  is  declared  to  be  proof  of  political 

It  is  deplorable,  sir,  that  in  both  sections  a  larger  percentage 
of  the  vote  is  not  r^ularly  cast,  but  more  inexplicable  that 
this  should  be  so  in  New  England  than  in  the  South.  What 
invites  the  negro  to  the  ballot-box?  He  knows  that  of  all  men 
it  has  promised  him  most  and  yielded  him  least.  His  first  appeal 
to  sufmige  was  the  promise  of  ''forty  acres  and  a  mule;  his 
second,  the  threat  that  Democratic  success  meant  his  retoslave- 
ment.  Both  have  been  proved  false  in  his  experience.  He  looked 
for  a  home,  and  he  got  the  Freedman's  Bank.  He  fought  under 
promise  of  the  loaf,  and  in  victory  was  denied  the  crumbs.  E)is- 
couraged  and  deceived,  he  has  realized  at  last  that  his  best 
friends  are  his  neighbors  with  whom  his  lot  is  cast,  and  whose 
prosperity  is  bound  up  in  his — ^and  that  he  has  gained  nothing 
m  politics  to  compensate  the  loss  of  their  confidence  and  sjrm- 
pathy,  that  is  at  last  his  best  and  enduring  hope.  And  so,  with- 
out leaders  or  organization — and  lacking  &e  resolute  heroism  of 
my  party  friends  in  Vermont  that  maSse  their  hopeless  march 
over  the  hills  a  high  and  inspiring  pilgrimage — ^he  shrewdlv 
measures  the  occasional  agitator,  balances  his  little  account  witn 
politics,  touches  up  his  mule,  and  jogs  down  the  furrow,  letting 
the  mad  world  wag  as  it  will ! 

The  negro  voter  can  never  control  in  the  South,  and  it  would 
be  well  if  partisans  at  the  North  would  understand  this.  I  have 
seen  the  white  people  of  a  State  set  about  by  black  hosts  untfl 
their  fate  seemed  sealed.  But,  sir,  some  brave  men,  banding 
them  together,  would  rise  as  Elisha  rose  in  beleaguered  Samaria, 
and,  touching  their  eyes  with  faith,  bid  them  look  abroad  to  see 
the  very  air  filled  with  the  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen 
thereof."  If  there  is  any  human  force  that  cannot  be  withstood, 
it  is  the  power  of  the  banded  intelligence  and  responsibility  of  a 
free  community.  Against  it,  niunbers  and  corruption  cannot 
prevail.  It  cannot  be  forbidden  in  the  law,  or  divorced  in  force. 
It  is  the  inalienable  right  of  every  free  community — ^the  just  and 
righteous  safeguard  against  an  ignorant  or  corrupt  suffrage.  It 
is  on  this,  sir,  that  we  rely  in  the  South.  Not  the  cowardly 
menace  of  mask  or  shotgun,  but  the  peaceful  majesty  of  intelli- 
gence and  responsibility,  massed  and  unified  for  the  protection 
of  its  homes  and  the  preservation  of  its  liberty.  That,  sir,  is 
our  reliance  and  our  hope,  and  against  it  all  the  powers  of  eartii 
shall  not  prevail.  It  is  just  as  certain  that  Virginia  would  come 
back  to  the  unchallenged  control  of  her  white  race — ^that  before 
the  moral  and  material  power  of  her  people  once  more  unified, 
opposition  would  crumble  until  its  last  desperate  leader  was  left 


alone,  vainly  striving  to  rally  his  disordered  hosts — as  that  night 
should  fade  in  the  Kindling  glory  of  the  sun.  You  may  pass 
force  bills,  but  they  will  not  avail.  You  may  surrender  your 
own  liberties  to  federal  election  law;  you  may  submit,  in  fear 
of  a  necessity  that  does  not  exist,  that  the  very  form  of  this 
government  may  be  changed;  you  may  invite  federal  inter- 
ference with  the  New  England  town  meeting,  that  has  been  for 
a  hundred  years  the  guarantee  of  local  government  in  America; 
this  old  State — which  holds  in  its  charter  the  boast  that  it  "is 
a  free  and  independent  commonwealth" — may  deliver  its 
election  machinery  into  the  hands  of  the  government  it  helped 
to  create — ^but  never,  sir,  will  a  single  State  of  this  Union,  North 
or  South,  be  delivered  again  to  the  control  of  an  ignorant  and 
inferior  race.  We  wrested  our  state  governments  from  negro 
supremacy  when  the  Federal  drumbeat  rolled  closer  to  the  ballot- 
box,  and  Federal  bayonets  hedged  it  deeper  about  than  will  ever 
again  be  permitted  in  this  free  government.  But,  sir,  though  the 
cannon  of  this  Republic  thtmdered  in  every  votine  district  in 
the  South,  we  still  should  find  in  the  mercy  of  Goa  the  means 
and  the  courage  to  prevent  its  re^stablishment. 

I  regret,  sir,  that  my  section,  hindered  with  this  problem, 
stands  in  seeming  estrangement  to  the  North.  If,  sir,  any  man 
will  point  out  to  me  a  path  down  which  the  white  people  of  the 
Soutn,  divided,  may  walk  in  peace  and  honor,  I  will  take  that 

fith,  though  I  take  it  alone — ^for  at  its  end,  and  nowhere  else, 
fear,  is  to  be  found  the  full  prosperity  of  my  section  and  the 
fuU  restoration  of  this  Union.  But,  sir,  if  the  negro  had  not  be^i 
enfranchised  the  South  would  have  been  divided  and  the  Republic 
united.  His  enfranchisement — against  which  I  enter  no  protest 
— ^holds  the  South  united  and  compact.  What  solution,  then, 
can  we  offer  for  the  problem?  Time  alone  can  disclose  it  to  us. 
We  simply  report  progress,  and  ask  your  patience.  If  the  problem 
be  solved  at  all — and  I  firmly  believe  it  will,  though  nowhere  else 
has  it  been — it  will  be  solved  bv  the  people  most  deeply  botmd 
in  interest,  most  deeply  pledged  in  honor  to  its  solution.  I  had 
rather  see  my  people  render  back  this  question  rightly  solved 
than  to  see  them  gather  all  the  spoils  over  which  faction  has  con- 
tended since  Cataline  conspired  and  Caesar  fought.  Meantime 
we  treat  the  negro  fairly,  measuring  to  him  justice  in  the  fulness 
tbe  strong  should  give  to  the  weak,  and  leadmg  him  in  the  stead- 
fast ways  of  citizenship,  that  he  may  no  longer  be  theprey  of  the 
unscrupulous  and  the  sport  of  the  thoughtless.  We  open  to 
him  evexy  pursuit  in  which  he  can  prosper,  and  seek  to  broaden 
his  traimng  and  capacitv.  We  seek  to  hold  his  confidence  and 
friendship — ^and  to  pin  nim  to  the  soil  with  ownership,  that  he 
may  catdi  in  the  fire  of  his  own  hearthstone  that  sense  of  responsi- 
bility the  shiftless  can  never  know.  And  we  gather  him  into  that 
alliance  of  intelligence  and  responsibility  that,  though  it  now 


runs  close  to  racial  lines,  welcomes  the  responsible  and  intell^ent 
of  any  race.  By  this  course,  confirmed  in  our  judgment,  and 
justified  in  the  progress  already  made,  we  hope  to  progress  slowly 
but  surely  to  the  end. 

The  love  we  feel  for  that  race,  you  cannot  measure  nor  com- 
prehend. As  I  attest  it  here,  the  spirit  of  my  old  black  mammy, 
from  her  home  up  there,  looks  down  to  bless,  and  through  the 
tumtdt  of  this  night  steals  the  sweet  music  of  her  croonings  as 
thirty  years  ago  she  held  me  in  her  black  arms  and  led  me  simling 
to  sleep.  This  scene  vanishes  as  I  speak,  and  I  catch  a  vision 
of  an  old  Southern  home  with  its  lofty  pillars  and  its  white 
paeons  fluttering  down  through  the  golden  air.  I  see  women 
with  strained  and  anxious  faces,  and  <3iildren  alert  3^t  helpless. 
I  see  night  come  down  with  its  dangers  and  its  apprehensions, 
and  in  a  big  homely  room  I  feel  on  my  tired  head  uie  touch  of 
loving  hancb — now  worn  and  wrinkled,  but  fairer  to  me  yet  than 
the  l^ds  of  mortal  woman,  and  stronger  yet  to  lead  me  than 
the  hands  of  mortal  man — as  they  lay  a  mother's  blessine  there, 
while  at  her  knees — ^the  truest  altar  1  yet  have  found — I  thank 
God  that  she  is  safe  in  her  sanctuary,  because  her  slaves,  sentinel 
in  the  silent  cabin,  or  guard  at  her  chamber  door,  put  a  black 
man's  loyalty  between  her  and  danger. 

I  catch  another  vision.  The  crisis  of  battle — a  soldier,  struck, 
staggering,  fallen.  I  see  a  slave,  scufiSng  through  the  smoke, 
wincOng  bos  black  arms  about  the  fallen  form,  reddfess  of  hurtling 
death — ^bending  his  trusty  face  to  catch  the  words  that  tremble 
on  the  stricken  lips,  so  wrestling  meantime  with  agon^  that  he 
would  lay  down  lus  life  in  his  master's  stead.  I  see  hnn  by  the 
weary  bedside,  ministering  with  imcomplaining  patience,  pray- 
ing with  all  his  htimble  heart  that  God  will  lift  his  master  up, 
until  death  comes  in  mercy  and  in  honor  to  still  the  soldiers 
agony  and  seal  the  soldier's  life.  I  see  him  by  the  open  grave — 
mute,  motionless,  uncovered,  suffering  for  the  death  of  him  who 
in  life  fought  against  his  freedom,  f  see  him,  when  the  mold 
is  heaped  and  the  great  drama  of  his  life  is  closed,  turn  away  and 
with  downcast  eyes  and  imcertain  step  start  out  into  new  and 
strange  fields,  faltering,  struggling,  but  moving  on,  until  his 
shambling  figure  is  lost  in  the  light  of  this  better  and  brighter 
day.  And  from  the  grave  comes  a  voice,  saying,  "Follow  him! 
put  your  arms  about  him  in  his  need,  even  as  he  put  his  about 
me.  Be  his  friend  as  he  was  mine."  And  out  mto  this  new 
world — strange  to  me  as  to  him,  dazzling,  bewildering  both — ^I 
follow!  Ana  may  God  forget  my  people — when  they  forget 

Whatever  the  future  may  hold  for  them,  whether  they  plod 
along  in  the  servitude  from  which  they  have  never  been  luted 
since  the  Cyrenian  was  laid  hold  upon  by  the  Roman  soldiers, 
and  made  to  bear  the  cross  of  the  famting  Christ — ^whether  they 


find  homes  again  in  Africa,  and  thus  hasten  the  prophecy  of  the 
psahnist,  who  said,  "And  suddenly  Ethiopia  shall  hold  out  her 
hands  unto  God" — ^whether  forever  dislocated  and  separate, 
they  remain  a  weak  people,  beset  by  stronger,  and  exist,  as  the 
Turk,  who  lives  in  the  jealousy  rather  than  in  the  conscience  of 
Europe — or  whether  in  this  miraculous  Republic  they  break 
through  the  caste  of  twenty  centuries  and,  bel^g  universal 
history,  reach  the  full  stature  of  citizenship,  and  m  peace  main- 
tain it — we  shall  give  them  uttermost  justice  and  abiding  friend- 
ship. And  whatever  we  do,  into  whatever  seeming  estrangement 
we  may  be  driven,  nothing  shall  disturb  the  love  we  bear  this 
Republic,  or  mitigate  our  consecration  to  its  service.  I  stand 
here,  Mr.  President,  to  profess  no  new  loyalty.  When  General 
Lee,  whose  heart  was  the  temple  of  our  hopes,  and  whose  arm 
was  clothed  with  our  strength,  renewed  his  allegiance  to  this 
Government  at  Appomattox,  he  spoke  from  a  heart  too  great 
to  be  false,  and  he  spoke  for  every  honest  man  from  Maryland 
to  Texas.  From  that  day  to  this  Hamilcar  has  nowhere  in  the 
South  sworn  voting  Hannibal  to  hatred  and  vengeance,  but 
everywhere  to  lojralty  and  to  love.  Witness  the  veteran  standing 
at  the  base  of  a  Confederate  monument,  above  the  graves  of  his 
comrades,  his  empty  sleeve  tossing  in  the  April  wind,  adjuring 
the  young  men  about  him  to  serve  as  earnest  and  loyal  citizens 
the  Government  against  which  their  fathers  fought.  This  mes- 
sage, delivered  from  that  sacred  presence,  has  gone  home  to  the 
hearts  of  my  fellows!  And,  sir,  I  declare  here,  if  physical  courage 
be  always  equal  to  human  aspiration,  that  they  would  die,  sir, 
if  need  be,  to  restore  this  Republic  their  fathers  fought  to  dissolve. 

Such,  Mr.  President,  is  this  problem  as  we  see  it,  such  is  the 
temper  in  which  we  ^proach  it,  such  the  progress  made.  What 
do  we  ask  of  you?  First,  patience;  out  of  this  alone  can  come 
perfect  work.  Second,  coimdence;  in  this  alone  can  you  judge 
fairly.  Third,  sympathy;  in  thisyou  can  help  us  best.  Fourth, 
give  us  your  sons  as  hostages.  When  you  plant  your  capital  in 
millions,  send  your  sons  that  they  may  know  how  true  are  our 
hearts  and  may  hdp  to  swell  the  Caucasian  current  until  it  can 
carry  without  danger  this  black  infusion.  Fifth,  loyalty  to  the 
Republic — ^for  there  is  sectionalism  in  loyalty  as  in  estrangement. 
This  hour  little  needs  the  loyalty  that  is  loyal  to  one  section  and 
yet  holds  the  other  in  enduring  suspicion  and  estrangement. 
Give  us  the  broad  and  perfect  loyalty  that  loves  and  trusts 
Georgia  alike  with  Massachusetts — that  knows  no  South,  no 
North,  no  East,  no  West,  but  endears  with  equal  and  patriotic 
love  every  foot  of  our  soil,  every  State  of  our  Union. 

A  mighty  duty,  sir,  and  a  mighty  inspiration  impels  every  one 
of  us  to-night  to  lose  in  patriotic  consecration  whatever  estranges^ 
whatever  divides.  We,  sir,  are  Americans — and  we  stand  for 
human  liberty !   The  uplifting  force  of  the  American  idea  is  under 


every  throne  on  earth.  France,  Brazil — ^these  are  otir  victories. 
To  redeem  the  earth  from  kingcraft  and  oppression — this  is  our 
mission!  And  we  shall  not  fall.  God  has  sown  in  our  soil  the 
seed  of  His  millennial  harvest,  and  He  will  not  lay  the  sickle  to 
the  ripening  crop  until  His  full  and  perfect  day  has  come.  Our 
history,  sir,  has  been  a  constant  and  expandmg  mirade,  from 
Plymouth  Rode  and  Jamestown,  all  the  way — aye,  even  from 
the  hour  when  from  the  voiceless  and  traceless  ocean  a  new  worid 
rose  to  the  sight  of  the  in»)ired  sailor.  As  we  approach  the  fourth 
centennial  of  that  stupendous  day — when  the  old  world  will  come 
to  marvel  and  to  learn  amid  our  gathered  treasures — let  us 
resolve  to  crown  the  mirades  of  our  past  with  the  spectade  of  a 
Republic,  compact,  united,  indissoluble  in  the  bonds  of  love — 
lovmg  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf — ^the  wounds  of  war  healed  in 
every  heart  as  on  every  hill,  serene  and  resplendent  at  the  summit 
of  human  achievement  and  earthly  glory,  blazing  out  the  path 
and  making  dear  the  way  up  which  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
must  come  in  God's  appointed  time! 



Delivered  at  the  World's  Fair,  Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  on  Sep- 
tember 5, 1901,  the  day  before  he  was  assassinated. 

I  am  glad  again  to  be  in  the  dty  of  Buffalo  and  exchange 
greetings  with  her  people,  to  whose  generous  hospitality  I  am 
not  a  stranger,  and  with  whose  good  will  I  have  been  repeatedly 
and  signally  honored.  To-day  I  have  additional  satisfaction  in 
meeting  and  giving  welcome  to  the  foreign  representatives 
assembled  here,  whose  presence  and  partidpation  in  this  Exposi- 
tion have  contributed  m  so  marked  a  degree  to  its  interest  and 
success.  To  the  commissioners  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada  and 
the  British  Colonies,  the  French  Colonies,  the  Republics  dt 
Mexico  and  of  Central  and  South  America,  and  the  commission- 
ers of  Cuba  and  Porto  Rico,  who  share  with  us  in  this  undertaking, 
we  give  the  hand  of  fellowship  and  felidtate  with  them  ui>on 
the  triumphs  of  art,  sdence,  education  and  manufacture  which 
the  old  has  bequeathed  to  the  new  century. 

Expositions  are  the  timekeepers  of  progress.  They  record  the 
worla's  advancement.  They  stimulate  the  energy,  enterprise 
and  intellect  of  the  people,  and  quicken  himian  genius.  They  go 
into  the  home.  They  broaden  and  brighten  the  daily  life  of  the 
people.  They  open  mighty  storehouses  of  information  to  the 
student.  Every  exposition,  great  or  small,  has  hdped  to  some 
onward  step. 

Comparison  of  ideas  is  alwa3rs  educational  and,  as  such,  in- 
structs the  brain  and  hand  of  man.    Friendly  rivalry  foUows, 


which  is  the  spur  to  industrial  improvement,  the  inspiration  to 
useful  invention  and  to  high  enoeavor  in  all  departments  of 
human  activity.  It  exacts  a  study  of  the  wants,  comforts,  and 
even  the  whims  of  the  people,  and  recognizes  the  efficacy  of  high 
quality  and  low  prices  to  win  their  favor.  The  quest  for  trade  is 
an  incentive  to  men  of  business  to  devise,  invent,  improve  and 
economize  in  the  cost  of  production.  Business  life,  whether 
among  ourselves,  or  with  other  peoples,  is  ever  a  sharp  struggle 
for  success.    It  will  be  none  the  less  in  the  future. 

Without  competition  we  would  be  clinging  to  the  clumsy  and 
antiquated  process  of  farming  and  manufacture  and  the  methods 
of  business  of  long  ago,  and  the  twentieth  would  be  no  further 
advanced  than  the  eighteenth  century.  But  tho  commercial 
competitors  we  are,  commercial  enemies  we  must  not  be.  The 
Pan-American  Exposition  has  done  its  work  thoroughly,  pre- 
senting in  its  exhibits  evidences  of  the  highest  skill  and  illus- 
trating the  progress  of  the  human  family  in  the  Western  Hemi- 
sphere. This  portion  of  the  earth  has  no  cause  for  humiliation 
for  the  part  it  has  performed  in  the  march  of  civilization.  It  has 
not  accomplished  everything;  far  from  it.  It  has  simpty  done 
its  best,  and  without  vanity  or  boastfulness,  and  recognizmg  the 
manifold  achievements  of  others  it  invites  the  friendly  rivalry 
of  all  the  powers  in  the  peaceful  pursuits  of  trade  and  commerce, 
and  will  codperate  with  all  in  advancing  the  highest  and  best 
interests  of  humanity.  The  wisdom  and  energy  of  all  the  nations 
are  none  too  great  for  the  world  work.  The  success  of  art,  science, 
industry  and  invention  is  an  international  asset  and  a  common 

After  all,  how  near  one  to  the  other  is  every  part  of  the  world. 
Modem  inventions  have  brought  into  dose  relation  widely 
separated  peoples  and  make  them  better  acquainted.  Geo- 
graphic and  political  divisions  will  continue  to  exist,  but  dis- 
tances have  been  ^aced.  Swift  ships  and  fast  trains  are  becom- 
ing cosmopolitan.  They  invade  fields  which  a  few  years  ago 
were  impenetrable.  The  world's  products  are  exchEmged  as 
never  before  and  with  increasing  transportation  facilities  come 
increasing  knowledge  and  larger  trade.  Prices  are  fixed  with 
mathematical  precision  by  supply  and  demand.  The  world's 
selling  prices  are  regulat^  by  market  and  crop  reports.  We 
travel  greater  distances  in  a  shorter  space  of  time  and  with  more 
ease  than  was  ever  dreamed  of  by  the  fathers.  Isolation  is  no 
longer  possible  or  desirable.  The  same  important  news  is  read, 
tho  in  different  languages,  the  same  day  in  all  Christendom. 

The  telegraph  keeps  us  advised  of  what  is  occurring  every- 
where, and  the  Press  foreshadows,  with  more  or  less  accuracy, 
the  plans  and  purposes  of  the  nations.  Market  prices  of  products 
and  of  securities  are  hourly  known  in  every  commercial  mart, 
and  the  investments  of  the  people  extena  beyond  their  own 


national  boundaries  into  the  remotest  parts  of  the  earth.  Vast 
transactions  are  conducted  and  international  exchan^  are  made 
by  the  tick  of  the  cable.  Every  event  of  interest  is  mmiediately 
bulletined.  The  quick  gathering  and  transmission  of  news,  Ukb 
rapid  transit,  are  of  recent  origin,  and  are  only  made  possible 
by  the  genius  of  the  inventor  and  the  courage  of  the  investor. 
It  took  a  special  messenger  of  the  government,  with  every  facility 
known  at  Uie  time  for  rapid  travd,  nineteen  days  to  go  from  ttis 
Citv  of  Washington  to  New  Orleans  with  a  message  to  General 
Ja^son  that  the  war  with  England  had  ceased  and  a  treaty  of 
peace  had  been  signed.  How  different  now !  We  reached  General 
Miles,  in  Porto  Rico,  and  he  was  able  through  the  military  tde- 
graph  to  stop  his  armv  on  the  firing  line  with  the  message  that 
the  United  States  and  Spain  had  signed  a  protocol  suspending 
hostilities.  We  knew  almost  instanter  of  the  first  shots  fired  at 
Santiago,  and  the  subsequent  surrender  of  the  Spanish  forces 
was  known  at  Washington  within  less  than  an  hour  of  its  con- 
summation. The  first  ship  of  Cervera's  fleet  had  hardly  emei^ed 
from  that  historic  harbor  when  the  fact  was  flashed  to  our  Capitol, 
and  the  swift  destruction  that  followed  was  announced  immedi- 
ately through  the  wonderful  medium  of  tel^^raphy. 

So  accustomed  are  we  to  safe  and  easy  communication  with 
distant  kmds  that  its  temporary  interruption,  even  in  ordinary 
times,  rraults  in  loss  and  mconvenience.  We  shall  never  forget 
the  days  of  anxious  waiting  and  suspense  when  no  information 
was  permitted  to  be  sent  from  Pekin,  and  the  diplomatic  repre- 
sentatives of  the  nations  in  China,  cut  c^  from  all  commumca- 
tion,  inside  and  outside  of  the  waJled  capital,  were  surrounded 
by  an  angiy  and  misguided  mob  that  threatened  their  lives; 
nor  the  joy  that  thrilled  the  world  when  a  single  message  from 
the  government  of  the  United  States  brought  through  our 
minister  the  first  news  of  the  safety  of  the  besieged  diplomats. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  there  was  not  a 
mile  of  steam  railroad  on  the  globe;  now  there  are  enough  miles 
to  make  its  circuit  many  times.  Then  there  was  not  a  line  of 
electric  telegraph;  now  we  have  a  vast  mileage  traversing  all 
lands  and  seas.  God  and  man  have  linked  the  nations  together. 
No  nation  can  longer  be  indifferent  to  any  other.  And  as  we 
are  brought  more  and  more  in  touch  with  each  other,  the  less 
occasion  is  there  for  misunderstandings,  and  the  stronger  the 
disposition,  when  we  have  differences,  to  adjust  them  in  the 
court  of  arbitration,  which  is  the  noblest  forum  for  the  settlement 
of  international  dilutes. 

My  fellow  citizens,  trade  statistics  indicate  that  this  country 
is  in  a  state  of  imexampled  prosperity.  The  fieures  are  almost 
appalling.  They  show  that  we  are  utilizing  our  fields  and  forests 
and  mines,  and  that  we  are  furnishing  profitable  employment  to 
the  millions  of  workingmen  throughout  the  United  States,  bring- 


ing  comfort  and  happiness  to  their  homes,  and  maXring  it  possible 
to  lay  by  savings  for  old  age  and  disability.  That  all  the  people  are 
participating  in  this  great  prosperity  is  seen  in  every  American 
community  and  shown  bv  the  enormous  and  unprecedented 
deposits  in  our  savings  banks.  Our  duty  in  the  care  and  security 
of  these  deposits  and  their  safe  investment  demands  the  hi^est 
integrity  and  the  best  business  capacity  of  those  in  charge  of 
these  depositories  of  the  people's  earnings. 

We  have  a  vast  and  intricate  business,  built  up  through  years 
of  toil  and  struggle  in  which  eveiy  part  of  the  country  has  its 
stake,  which  wuTnot  permit  of  either  neglect  or  of  undue  sel- 
fishness. No  narrow,  sordid  policy  will  subserve  it.  The  great- 
est skill  and  wisdom  on  the  part  of  manufacturers  and  producers 
will  be  required  to  hold  and  increase  it.    Our  industrial  enter- 

g rises,  which  have  ^rown  to  such  great  proportions,  affect  the 
omes  and  occupations  of  the  people  and  the  welfare  of  the 
country.  Our  capacity  to  produce  has  developed  so  enormously 
and  our  products  have  so  multiplied  that  the  problem  of  more 
markets  requires  our  uxgent  and  immediate  attention.  Only  a 
broad  and  oilightened  policy  will  keep  what  we  have.  No  oUier 
policy  will  get  more.  In  these  times  of  marvelous  business  energy 
and  gain  we  ought  to  be  looking  to  the  future,  strengthening  the 
weak  places  in  our  industrial  and  commercial  systems,  that  we 
may  be  ready  for  any  storm  or  strain. 

By  sensible  trade  arrangements  which  will  not  interrupt  our 
home  production  we  shall  extend  the  outlets  for  our  increasing 
surplus.  A  system  which  provides  a  mutual  exchange  of  com- 
modities is  manifestly  essential  to  the  continued  and  healthful 
growth  of  our  export  trade.  We  must  not  repose  in  the  fancied 
security  that  we  can  forever  sell  everything  and  buy  little  or 
nothing.  If  such  a  thing  were  possible  it  would  not  be  best  for 
us  or  for  those  with  whom  we  deal.  We  should  take  from  our 
customers  such  of  their  products  as  we  can  use  without  harm 
to  our  industries  and  labor.  Reciprocity  is  the  natural  outgrowth 
of  our  wonderful  industrial  development  imder  the  domestic 
policy  now  firmly  established. 

What  we  produce  beyond  our  domestic  consumption  must 
have  a  vent  abroad.  The  excess  must  be  relieved  through  a 
foreign  outlet,  and  we  should  sell  everywhere  we  can  and  buy 
wherever  the  buying  will  enlarge  our  sales  and  productions, 
and  thereby  make  a  greater  demand  for  home  labor. 

The  period  of  exdusiveness  is  past.  The  expansion  of  our  trade 
and  commerce  is  the  pressing  problem.  Commercial  wars  are 
unprofitable.  A  policy  of  ^ood  will  and  f  riendly^  trade  relations 
will  prevent  reprisals.  Reaprocity  treaties  are  m  harmoxiv  with 
the  spirit  of  the  times;  measures  of  retaliation  are  not.  If,  per- 
chance, some  of  our  tariffs  are  no  longer  needed  for  revenue  or 
to  encourage  and  protect  our  industries  at  home,  why  should 


they  not  be  employed  to  extend  and  promote  our  markets  abroad? 
llien,  too,  we  nave  inadequate  steamship  service.  New  lines  of 
steamships  have  already  oeen  put  in  commission  between  the 
Padfic  coast  ports  of  the  United  States  and  those  on  the  western 
coasts  of  Mexico  and  Central  and  South  America.  These  should 
be  followed  up  with  direct  steamship  lines  between  the  western 
coast  of  the  United  States  and  South  American  ports.  One  of  the 
needs  of  the  times  is  direct  commercial  lines  from  our  vast  fields 
of  production  to  the  fields  of  consumption  that  we  have  but 
bamy  touched.  Next  in  advantage  to  having  the  thing  to  sdl 
is  to  have  the  conveyance  to  carry  it  to  the  buyer.  We  must 
encourage  our  merchant  marine.  We  must  have  more  ships. 
They  must  be  under  the  American  flag;  bmlt  and  manned  and 
owned  by  Americans.  These  will  not  only  be  profitable  in  a 
conmiercial  sense;  they  will  be  messengers  of  peiEtce  and  amity 
wherever  they  go. 

We  must  build  the  Isthmian  canal,  which  will  unite  the  two 
oceans  and  give  a  straight  line  of  water  communication  with  the 
western  coasts  of  Central  and  South  America  and  Mexico.  The 
construction  of  a  Pacific  cable  can  not  be  longer  postponed.  In 
the  furtherance  of  these  objects  of  national  interest  and  concern 
you  are  performing  an  important  part.  This  Exposition  would 
have  touched  the  heart  of  that  American  statesman  whose  mind 
was  ever  alert  and  thought  ever  constant  for  a  larger  commerce 
and  a  truer  fraternity  of  the  republics  of  the  New  World.  His 
broad  American  spint  is  felt  and  manifested  here.  He  needs  no 
identification  to  an  assemblage  of  Americcms  anywhere,  for  the 
name  of  Blaine  is  inseparably  associated  with  the  Pan-American 
movement  which  finds  here  practical  and  substantial  expression, 
and  which  we  all  hope  will  be  firmly  advanced  by  the  Pan- 
American  Congress  that  assembles  tlus  autumn  in  the  capital 
of  Mexico.  The  good  work  will  go  on.  It  can  not  be  stopped. 
Those  buildings  will  disappear;  this  creation  of  art  and  beauty 
and  industry  wlU  perish  from  sight,  but  their  influence  will  remain 
to  "nudce  it  live  beyond  its  too  short  living  with  praises  and 
thanksgiving."  Who  can  tell  the  new  thoughts  that  have  been 
awakened,  the  ambitions  fired  and  the  high  achievements  that 
will  be  wrought  through  this  Exposition? 

Gentlemen,  let  us  ever  remember  that  our  interest  is  in  con- 
cord, not  conflict;  and  that  our  real  eminence  rests  in  the  vic- 
tories of  peace,  not  those  of  war.  We  hope  that  all  who  are  repre- 
sented here  may  be  moved  to  higher  and  nobler  efforts  for  their 
own  and  the  world's  good,  and  that  out  of  this  city  may  come  not 
only  greater  commerce  and  trade  for  us  all,  but,  more  essential  than 
these,  rdations  of  mutual  respect,  confidence  and  friendship  which 
will  deepen  and  endure.  Our  earnest  prayer  is  that  God  will  gra- 
ciously vouchsafe  prosperity,  happiness  and  peace  to  aU  our  neigh- 
bors, and  like  blessings  to  all  the  peoples  and  powers  of  earth. 




Prom  his  memorial  address  at  a  joint  session  of  the  Senate 
and  House  of  Representatives  on  February  27,  1903. 

For  the  third  time  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  are 
assembled  to  commemorate  the  Bfe  and  the  death  of  a  president 
slain  by  the  hand  of  an  assassin.  The  attention  of  the  future 
historian  will  be  attracted  to  the  features  which  reappear  with 
startling  sameness  in  all  three  of  these  awful  crimes:  the  useless- 
ness,  the  utter  lack  of  consequence  of  the  act;  the  obscurity, 
the  insignificance  of  the  crimmal;  the  blamelessness — so  far  as 
in  our  sphere  of  existence  the  best  of  men  may  be  held  blamdess 
— of  the  victim.  Not  one  of  our  murdered  presidents  had  an 
enemv  in  the  world;  they  were  all  of  such  preeminent  purity  of 
life  that  no  pretext  could  be  given  for  the  attack  of  passional 
crime;  they  were  all  men  of  democratic  instincts,  who  could 
never  have  offended  the  most  jealous  advocates  of  equity;  they 
were  of  kindly  and  generous  nature,  to  whom  wrong  or  injustice 
was  impossible;  of  moderate  foittme,  whose  slender  means 
nobody  could  envy.  They  were  men  of  austere  virtue,  of  tender 
heart,  of  eminent  abilities,  which  they  had  devoted  with  single 
minds  to  the  good  of  the  Republic.  If  ever  men  walked  before 
God  and  man  without  blame,  it  was  these  thr^e  rulers  of  our 
people.  The  only  temptation  to  attack  their  lives  offered  was 
their  gentle  radiance — to  eyes  hating  the  light,  that  was  offense 

The  stupid  uselessness  of  such  an  infamy  affronts  the  common 
sense  of  the  world.  One  can  conceive  how  the  death  of  a  dictator 
may  change  the  political  conditions  of  an  empire;  how  the 
extmction  of  a  narrowing  line  of  kings  may  brmg  in  an  alien 
dynasty.  But  in  a  well-ordered  Reputnic  like  ours  the  ruler  may 
fall,  but  the  State  feels  no  tremor.  Our  beloved  and  revered 
leader  is  gone — but  the  natural  process  of  our  laws  provides  us  a 
successor,  identical  in  purpose  and  ideals,  nourished  by  the  same 
teachings,  inspired  by  the  same  principles,  pledged  by  tender 
affection  as  well  as  by  high  loyalty  to  carry  to  completion  the 
immense  task  committed  to  his  hands,  ana  to  smite  with  iron 
severity  every  manifestation  of  that  hideous  crime  which  his 
mild  predecessor,  with  his  dying  breath,  forgave.  The  sayings  of 
celestial  wisdom  have  no  dfate;  the  words  that  reach  us,  over 
two  thousand  years,  out  of  the  darkest  hour  of  gloom  the  world 
has  ever  known,  are  true  to  life  to-day:  "They  know  not  what 
they  do."  The  blow  struck  at  our  dear  friend  and  ruler  was  as 
deadly  as  blind  hate  could  make  it;  but  the  blow  struck  at 
anarchy  was  deadlier  still. 

How  many  cotmtries  can  join  with  us  in  the  community  of  a 


kindred  soirow!  I  will  not  speak  of  those  distant  regions  where 
assassination  enters  into  the  daily  life  of  government.  But 
among  the  nations  bound  to  us  by  the  ties  of  familiar  intercourse 
— ^who  can  f ox^et  that  wise  and  mild  autocrat  who  had  earned 
the  proud  title  of  the  liberator?  that  enlightened  and  magnani- 
mous citizen  whom  France  still  mourns?  that  brave  and  diival- 
rous  king  of  Italy  who  only  lived  for  his  people?  and,  saddest  of 
all,  that  lovely  and  sorrowmg  empress,  whose  harmless  life  could 
hardly  have  excited  the  animosity  of  a  demon?  Against  that 
devilish  spirit  nothing  avails, — neither  virtue  nor  patriotism, 
nor  age  nor  youth,  nor  conscience  nor  pity.  We  can  not  even 
say  that  education  is  a  sufficient  safeguard  against  this  baleful 
evil, — ^for  most  of  the  wretches  whose  crimes  have  so  shocked 
humanity  in  recent  years  were  men  not  unlettered,  who  have 
gone  from  the  common  schools,  through  murder  to  the  scaffold. 
The  life  of  William  McKinley  was,  from  his  birth  to  his  death, 
typically  American.  There  is  no  environment,  I  should  say, 
anywhere  else  in  the  world  which  could  produce  just  such  a 
character.  He  was  bom  into  that  way  of  life  which  elsewhere  is 
called  the  middle  class,  but  which  in  this  country  is  so  nearly 
universal  as  to  make  of  other  classes  an  almost  negligible  quantity. 
He  was  neither  rich  nor  poor,  neither  proud  nor  humble;  he 
knew  no  hunger  he  was  not  sure  of  satisfying,  no  luxury  which 
could  enervate  mind  or  body.  His  parents  were  sobo:.  God- 
fearing .people;  intelligent  and  upright,  without  pretension  and 
without  humility.  He  grew  up  in  the  company  of  boys  like  him- 
self, wholesome,  honest,  self-respecting.  They  looked  down  on 
nobody;  they  never  felt  it  possible  they  could  be  looked  down 
upon.  Their  houses  were  the  homes  of  probity,  piety,  patriot- 
ism. They  learned  in  the  admirable  school  readers  of  fifty  years 
ago  the  lessons  of  heroic  and  splendid  life  which  have  come  down 
from  the  past.  They  read  in  their  weekly  newspapers  the  story 
of  the  world's  progress,  in  which  they  were  eager  to  take  part, 
and  of  the  sins  and  wrongs  of  civilization  with  which  they  burned 
to  do  battle.  It  was  a  serious  and  thoughtful  time.  The  boys 
of  that  day  felt  dimly,  but  deeply,  that  days  of  sharp  struggle 
and  high  achievement  were  before  them.  They  looked  at  life 
with  the  wondering  yet  resolute  eyes  of  a  young  esquire  in  his 
vigil  of  arms.  They  felt  a  time  was  coming  when  to  them  should 
be  addressed  the  stem  admonition  of  the  Apostle,  "Quit  you  like 
men;   be  strong." 

The  men  who  are  living  to-day  and  were  young  in  1860  will 
never  forget  the  glory  and  glamour  that  filled  the  earth  and  the 
sky  when  the  long  twilight  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  was  ending 
and  the  time  for  action  had  come.  A  speech  bv  Abraham  Liacoln 
was  an  event  not  only  of  high  morsu  sig^nincance,  but  of  far- 
reaching  importance;  the  drillin|:  of  a  militia  company  by  Ells- 
worth attracted  national  attention;    the  fluttering  <i  the  flag 


in  the  dear  sky  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  of  young  men.  Patriot- 
ism, which  had  been  a  rhetorical  expression,  became  a  passionate 
emotion,  in  which  instinct,  logic  and  feeling  were  fused.  The 
country  was  worth  saving;  it  could  be  saved  only  by  fire;  no 
saoifice  was  too  great;  the  voung  men  of  the  cotmtry  were  ready 
for  the  sacrifice;   come  weal,  come  woe,  they  were  ready. 

At  seventeen  years  of  age  William  McKinley  heard  this  sum- 
mons of  his  country.  He  was  the  sort  of  youth  to  whom  a 
military  life  in  ordinary  times  would  possess  no  attractions.  His 
nature  was  far  different  from  that  of  the  ordinary  soldier.  He 
had  other  dreams  of  life,  its  prizes  and  pleasures,  than  that  of 
marches  and  battles.  But  to  his  mind  there  was  no  choice  or 
question.  The  banner  floating  in  the  morning  breeze  was  the 
beckoning  gesture  of  his  country.  The  thrilling  notes  of  the 
trumpet  caUed  him — ^him  and  none  other — into  the  ranks.  His 
portrait  in  his  first  uniform  is  familiar  to  vou  all — ^the  short, 
stocky  figure;  the  quiet,  thoughtful  face;  the  deep,  dark  eyes. 
It  is  the  face  of  a  lad  who  could  not  stay  at  home  when  he  thought 
he  was  needed  in  the  field.  He  was  of  the  stuff  of  which  good 
soldiers  are  made.  Had  he  been  ten  years  older  he  would  have 
entered  at  the  head  of  a  company  and  come  out  at  the  head  of  a 
division.  But  he  did  what  he  could.  He  enlisted  as  a  private; 
he  learned  to  obey.  His  serious,  sensible  ways,  his  prompt,  alert 
efficiencv  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  his  supenors.  He  was 
so  faithful  in  little  things  that  they  gave  him  more  and  more  to 
do.  He  was  untiring  in  camp  and  on  the  march;  swift,  cool  and 
fearless  in  fight.  He  left  the  army  with  field  rank  when  the  war 
ended,  brevetted  by  President  Lincoln  for  gallantry  in  battle. 

In  coming  years  when  men  seek  to  draw  the  moral  of  our  great 
Civil  War,  nothing  will  seem  to  them  so  admirable  in  all  the 
history  of  our  two  magnificent  armies  as  the  way  in  which  the 
war  came  to  a  dose.  When  the  Confederate  army  saw  the  time 
had  come,  they  acknowledged  the  pitiless  logic  of  facts  and  ceased 
fighting.  When  the  army  of  the  Union  saw  it  was  no  longer 
needed,  without  a  murmur  or  question,  making  no  terms,  askmg 
no  return,  in  the  flush  of  victory  and  fulness  of  might,  it  laid 
down  its  arms  and  mdted  back  into  the  mass  of  peaceful  dtizens. 
Tliere  is  no  event  since  the  nation  was  bom  which  has  so  proved 
its  solid  capadty  for  self-government.  Both  sections  share 
equally  in  that  crown  of  glory.  They  had  hdd  a  debate  of  in- 
comparable importance  and  had  fought  it  out  with  equal  energy. 
A  conclusion  had  been  reached — and  it  is  to  the  everlasting  honor 
of  both  sides  that  they  each  knew  when  the  war  was  over  and  the 
hour  of  a  lasting  peace  had  struck.  We  may  admire  the  desperate 
daring  of  others  who  prefer  annihilation  to  compromise,  but  the 
palm  of  common  sense,  and,  I  will  say,  of  enlightened  patriotism, 
bdongs  to  the  men  like  Grant  and  Lee,  who  knew  when  they  had 
fought  enough  for  honor  and  for  country. 

446         THE  ART  07  FUBUC  SPEAKING 

So  it  came  naturally  about  that  in  1876 — ^the  beginning  of  the 
second  oentuiy  of  the  Republic — ^he  began,  by  an  election  to 
Congress,  his  political  career.  Thereafter  for  fourteen  years  this 
chamber  was  his  home.  I  use  the  word  advisedly.  Nowhere  in 
the  world  was  he  so  in  harmony  with  his  environment  as  here; 
nowhere  else  did  his  mind  work  with  such  full  consciousness  of 
its  powers.  The  air  of  debate  was  native  to  him;  here  he  drank 
delight  of  battle  with  his  peers.  In  after  da3rs,  when  he  drove 
by  this  stately  pile,  or  when  on  rare  occasions  his  duty  odled 
hun  here,  he  grated  his  old  haunts  with  the  affectionate  zest  of 
a  child  of  the  house;  during  all  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  filled 
as  they  were  with  activity  and  glory,  he  never  ceased  to  be  home- 
sick for  this  hall.  When  he  came  to  the  presidency,  there  was 
not  a  day  when  his  con^^ressional  service  was  not  of  use  to  him. 
Probably  no  other  president  has  been  in  such  full  and  cordial 
communion  with  Congress,  if  we  may  except  Lincoln  alone. 
McKinley  knew  the  legislative  body  thoroughly,  its  composi- 
tion, its  methods,  its  habit  of  thought.  He  had  the  profoundest 
respect  for  its  authority  and  an  inflesdble  belief  in  the  ultimate 
rectitude  of  its  purposes.  Our  history  shows  how  surely  an  execu- 
tive courts  disaster  and  ruin  by  assuming  an  attitude  of  hostility 
or  distrust  to  the  Legislature;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  Mc- 
Kinley's  frank  and  sincere  trust  and  confidence  in  Congress  were 
repaid  by  prompt  and  loyal  support  and  co6peration.  During 
his  entire  term  of  office  this  mutual  trust  and  regard — so  essen- 
tial to  the  public  welfare — ^was  never  shadowed  by  a  single  doud. 

When  he  came  to  the  presidency  he  confronted  a  situation  of 
the  utmost  difficulty,  which  might  well  have  appalled  a  man  of 
less  serene  and  tranquil  self-coimdence.  There  had  been  a  state 
of  profotmd  commercial  and  industrial  depression  from  which 
his  friends  had  said  his  election  would  relieve  the  country.  Our 
relations  with  the  outside  world  left  much  to  be  desired.  The 
feeling  between  the  Northern  and  Southern  sections  of  the  Union 
was  lacking  in  the  cordiality  which  was  necessary  to  the  welfare 
of  both.  Hawaii  had  asked  for  annexation  and  had  been  rejected 
by  the  preceding  administration.  There  was  a  state  of  things  in 
the  Caribbean  which  could  not  permanently  endure.  Our 
neighbor's  house  was  on  fire,  and  there  were  grave  doubts  as  to 
our  rights  and  duties  in  the  premises.  A  man  either  weak  or 
rash,  either  irresolute  or  headstrong,  might  have  brought  ruin 
on  himself  and  incalculable  luum  to  the  coimtry. 

The  least  desirable  form  of  glory  to  a  man  of  his  habitual  mood 
and  temper — that  of  successful  war — ^was  nevertheless  conferred 
upon  him  by  tmcontrollable  events.  He  felt  it  must  come;  he 
deplored  its  necessity;  he  strained  ahnost  to  breaking  his  rela- 
tions with  his  friends,  in  order,  first  to  prevent  and  then  to  post- 
pone it  to  the  latest  possible  moment.  But  when  the  die  was 
cast,  he  labored  with  the  utmost  eneigy  and  ardor,  and  with  an 


intelligence  in  militaxy  matters  which  showed  how  much  of  the 
soldier  still  survived  m  the  mature  statesman,  to  push  forward 
the  war  to  a  decisive  dose.  War  was  an  anguish  to  him;  he 
wanted  it  short  and  conclusive.  His  merciful  zeal  communicated 
itself  to  his  subordinates,  and  the  war,  so  long  dreaded,  whose 
consequences  were  so  momentous,  ended  in  a  hundred  days. 

Mr.  McKinley  was  reelected  by  an  overwhelming  majority. 
There  had  been  little  doubt  of  the  result  among  wdl-informed 
people,  but  when  it  was  known,  a  profound  feeling  of  relief  and 
renewal  of  trust  were  evident  among  the  leaders  of  capital  and 
industry,  not  only  in  this  country,  but  eveivwhere.  They  felt 
that  the  immediate  future  was  secure,  and  that  trade  and  com- 
merce might  safely  push  forward  in  every  field  of  effort  and 

He  felt  that  the  harvest  time  was  come,  to  gamer  in  the  fruits 
of  so  much  planting  and  culture,  and  he  was  determined  that 
nothing  he  might  do  or  say  should  be  liable  to  the  reproach  of  a 
personal  interest.  Let  us  say  frankly  he  was  a  party  man;  he 
believed  the  policies  advocated  by  him  and  his  friends  cotmted 
for  much  in  the  cotmtry's  process  and  prosperity.  He  hoped 
in  his  second  term  to  accomphsh  substantial  results  in  the  de- 
velopment and  affirmation  of  those  policies.  I  spent  a  day  with 
him  shortly  before  he  started  on  his  fateful  journey  to  Buffalo. 
Never  had  I  seen  him  his/her  in  hope  and  patriotic  confidence. 
He  was  gratified  to  the  heart  that  we  had  arranged  a  treaty 
which  gave  us  a  free  hand  in  the  Isthmus.  In  fancy  he  saw  the 
canal  siready  built  and  the  argosies  of  the  world  passing  through 
it  in  peace  and  amity.  He  saw  in  the  immense  evolution  of 
American  trade  the  fulfilment  of  all  his  dreams,  the  reward  of 
all  his  labors.  He  was,  I  need  not  say,  an  ardent  protectionist, 
never  more  sincere  and  devoted  than  during  those  last  days  of 
his  life.  He  regarded  reciprocity  as  the  bulwark  of  protection — 
not  a  breach,  but  a  fulfihnent  of  the  law.  The  treaties  which 
for  four  years  had  been  preparing  under  his  personal  supervision 
he  regarded  as  ancillary  to  the  eeneral  scheme.  He  was  opposed 
to  any  revolutionary  plan  of  change  in  the  existing  legi^tion; 
he  was  careful  to  point  out  that  everything  he  had  done  was  in 
faithful  compliance  with  the  law  itself. 

In  that  mood  of  high  hope,  of  generous  expectation,  he  went 
to  Buffalo,  and  there,  on  the  threshold  of  eternity,  he  delivered 
that  memorable  speech,  worthy  for  its  loftiness  of  tone,  its  blame- 
less morality,  its  breadth  of  view,  to  be  regarded  as  his  testament 
to  the  nation.  Through  all  his  piide  of  country  and  his  joy  of  its 
success  runs  the  note  of  solemn  warning,  as  in  Kipling's  noble 
hymn,  "Lest  We  Forg6t." 

The  next  day  sped  the  bolt  of  doom,  and  for  a  week  after — in 
an  agony  of  dread,  broken  by  illusive  glimpses  of  hope  that  our 
prayers  might  be  answered — ^the  nation  waited  for  the  end. 


Nothing  in  the  glorious  life  we  saw  gradudlv  waning  was  more 
admirable  and  exemplary  than  its  close.  Tne  gentle  humanity 
of  his  words  when  he  saw  his  assailant  in  danger  of  summary 
vengeance,  "Do  not  let  them  hurt  him;"  his  chivalious  caie 
that  the  news  should  be  broken  gently  to  his  wife;  the  fine 
courtesy  with  which  he  apolqnzed  for  the  damage  whidi  his 
death  would  bring  to  the  great  &hibition;  and  the  heroic  resigna- 
tion of  his  final  words,  "It  is  God's  wa^;  His  will,  not  ours,  be 
done,'*  were  all  the  instinctive  expressions  of  a  nature  so  lofty 
and  so  pure  that  pride  in  its  nobility  at  once  softened  and  en- 
hanced the  nation's  sense  of  loss.  The  Republic  grieved  over 
such  a  son, — ^but  is  proud  forever  of  having  produced  him.  After 
all,  in  roite  of  its  tragic  ending,  his  life  was  extraordinarily  happy. 
He  had,  all  his  days,  troops  of  friends,  the  cheer  of  fame  and 
fruitful  labor;  and  he  became  at  last, 

"On  fortune's  crowning  slope. 
The  pillar  of  a  people^s  hope. 
The  center  of  a  world's  desire." 



I  offer  no  apology  for  speaking  upon  a  religious  theme,  for  it  is 
the  most  universaTof  all  themes.  I  am  interested  in  the  science  d 
government,  but  I  am  interested  more  in  relieion  than  in  govern- 
ment. I  enjov  making  a  political  speech — I  have  made  a  good 
many  and  shall  make  more — ^but  I  would  rather  speak  on  rel^on 
than  on  politics.  I  commenced  speaking  on  the  stump  when  I 
was  only  twenty,  but  I  commenced  speaking  in  the  church  six 
years  earlier — and  I  shall  be  in  the  church  even  after  I  am  out 
of  politics.  I  feel  sure  of  my  ground  when  I  make  a  political 
speech,  but  I  feel  even  more  certain  of  my  ground  when  I  make 
a  religious  speech.  If  I  addrest  you  upon  the  subject  of  law  I 
might  interest  the  lawyers;  if  I  discust  the  science  of  medicine 
I  might  interest  the  physicians;  in  like  manner  merchants  might 
be  interested  in  comments  on  commerce,  and  farmers  in  matters 
pertaining  to  ^^culture;  but  no  one  of  these  subjects  appeals 
to  all.  Elven  the  science  of  government,  tho  broader  than  any 
profession  or  occupation,  does  not  embrace  the  whole  sum  of  life, 
and  those  who  think  upon  it  differ  so  among  themselves  that  I 
could  not  speak  upon  the  subject  so  as  to  please  a  part  of  the 
audience  without  displeasing  others.  While  to  me  the  science 
of  government  is  intcaisely  ^>sorbing,  I  recognize  that  the  most 

IJmd  by  penniMloii. 


importaiit  things  in  life  lie  outside  of  the  realm  of  government 
and  that  more  depends  upon  what  the  individual  does  for  himself 
than  upon  what  the  eovemment  does  or  can  do  for  him.  Men 
can  be  miserable  imder  the  best  government  and  they  can  be 
happy  imder  the  worst  govemmnet. 

Government  affects  but  a  part  of  the  life  which  we  live  here 
and  does  not  deal  at  all  with  the  life  beyond,  while  rdigion 
touches  the  infinite  circle  of  existence  as  weU  as  the  small  arc  of 
that  drde  which  we  spend  on  earth.  No  greater  theme,  there- 
fore, can  engage  our  attention.  If  I  discuss  questions  of  govern- 
ment I  must  secure  the  codperation  of  a  majority  before  I  can 
put  my  ideas  into  practise,  but  if,  in  speaking  on  religion,  I  can 
touch  one  htunan  heart  for  good,  I  have  not  spoken  m  vain  no 
matter  how  large  the  majority  may  be  against  me. 

Man  is  a  religious  being;  the  heart  insttnctiveJv  seeks  for  a 
God.  Whether  he  worships  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  prays 
with  his  face  upturned  to  the  sun,  kneels  toward  Mecca  or, 
regarding  all  space  as  a  temple,  communes  with  the  Heavenly 
Father  according  to  the  Christian  creed,  man  is  essentially  devout. 

There  are  honest  doubters  whose  sincerity  we  recognize  and 
respect,  but  occasionally  I  find  young  men  who  think  it  smart 
to  oe  skeptical;  they  talk  as  if  it  were  an  evidence  of  larger  in- 
telligence to  scoff  at  creeds  and  to  refuse  to  connect  themselves 
with  churches.  They  call  themselves  "  Liberal,"  as  if  a  Christian 
were  narrow  minded.  Some  go  so  far  as  to  assert  that 
the  "advanced  thought  of  the  worid"  has  discarded  the  idea 
that  there  is  a  God.  To  these  yoimg  men  I  desire  to  address 

Even  some  older  people  profess  to  regard  religion  as  a  super- 
stition, pardonable  in  the  ignorant  but  unworthy  of  the  educated. 
Those  who  hold  this  view  look  down  with  mild  contempt  upon 
such  as  give  to  reli^on  a  definite  place  in  their  thoughts  and  lives. 
They  assume  an  mtellectual  superiority  and  often  take  little 
pains  to  conceal  the  assumption.  Tolstoy  administers  to  the 
*^' cultured  crowd"  (the  words  quoted  are  his)  a  severe  rebuke 
when  he  declares  that  the  religious  sentiment  rests  not  upon  a 
superstitious  fear  of  the  invisible  forces  of  nature,  but  upon  man's 
consciousness  of  his  finiteness  amid  an  infinite  universe  and  of 
his  sinfulness;  and  this  consciousness,  the  great  philosopher 
adds,  man  can  never  outgrow.  Tolstoy  is  right;  man  recc^gnizes 
how  limited  are  his  own  powers  and  how  vast  is  the  universe, 
and  he  leans  upon  the  arm  that  is  stronger  than  his.  Man 
feds  the  weight  of  his  sins  and  looks  for  One  who  is  sinless. 

Religion  has  been  defined  by  Tolstoy  as  the  relation  which 
man  mces  between  himself  and  his  God,  and  morality  as  the 
outward  manifestation  of  this  inward  relation.  Every  one,  by 
the  time  he  reaches  maturity,  has  fixt  some  relation  between 
himself  and  God  and  no  material  change  in  this  relation  can  take 


place  without  a  revoluticm  in  the  man,  for  this  rdation  is  the 
most  potent  influence  that  acts  upon  a  human  life. 

Religion  is  the  foundation  of  moralitjr  in  the  individual  and 
in  the  group  of  individuals.  Materialists  have  attempted  to 
build  up  a  system  of  morality  upon  the  basis  oi  enlightened  self- 
interest.  They  would  have  man  figure  out  by  mathematics  that 
it  pays  him  to  abstain  from  wrong-doing;  they  would  even 
inject  an  element  of  selfishness  into  altruism,  but  the  moral 
system  elaborated  by  the  materialists  has  several  defects.  Fust, 
its  virtues  are  borrowed  from  moral  systems  based  upon  religion. 
All  those  who  are  intelligent  enough  to  discuss  a  system  of 
morality  are  so  saturated  with  the  morals  derived  from  systons 
resting  upon  religion  that  they  cannot  frame  a  S3^tem  resting 
ttpon  reason  alone.  Second,  as  it  rests  upon  ai|;ument  rather 
than  upon  authority,  the  young  are  not  in  a  position  to  accept 
or  reject.  Our  laws  do  not  permit  a  young  man  to  dispose  of 
real  estate  until  he  is  twenty-one.  Why  this  restraint?  Because 
his  reason  is  not  mature;  and  yet  a  man's  life  is  largely  moulded 
by  the  environment  of  his  youth.  Third,  one  never  knows  just 
how  much  of  his  decision  is  due  to  reason  and  how  much  is  due 
to  passion  or  to  selfish  interest.  Passion  can  dethrone  the  reason 
— ^we  recogmze  this  in  our  criminal  laws.  We  also  recognize  the 
bias  of  self-interest  when  we  exclude  from  the  jury  every  man, 
no  matter  how  reasonable  or  upright  he  may  be,  who  has  a 
pecuniary  interest  in  the  result  of  the  trial.  And,  fourth,  one 
whose  morality  rests  upon  a  nice  calculation  of  benefits  to  be 
secured  spends  time  figuring  that  he  should  »)end  in  action. 
Those  who  keep  a  book  account  of  their  good  deeds  seldom  do 
enough  good  to  justify  keeping  books.  A  noble  life  cannot  be 
built  upon  an  arithmetic;  it  must  be  rather  like  the  spring  that 
pours  forth  constantly  of  that  which  refreshes  and  invigorates. 

Morality  is  the  power  of  endurance  in  man;  and  a  religion 
which  teaches  personal  responsibility  to  God  gives  strength  to 
morality.  There  is  a  powerful  restraining  influence  in  the  belief 
that  an  all-seeing  eye  scrutinizes  every  thought  and  word  and 
act  of  the  individual. 

There  is  wide  difference  between  the  man  who  is  trying  to 
conform  his  life  to  a  standard  of  morality  about  him  and  the  man 
who  seeks  to  make  his  life  approximate  to  a  divine  standard. 
The  former  attempts  to  live  up  to  the  standard,  if  it  is  above  him, 
and  down  to  it,  it  it  is  below  him — and  if  he  is  doing  right  only 
when  others  are  looking  he  is  sure  to  find  a  time  when  he  thinks 
he  is  unobserved,  and  then  he  takes  a  vacation  and  falls.  One 
needs  the  inner  strength  which  comes  with  the  conscious  presence 
of  a  personal  God.  If  those  who  are  thus  fortified  sometimes 
yield  to  temptation,  how  helpless  and  hopeless  must  those  be 
who  rely  upon  their  own  strength  alone! 

There  are  difficulties  to  be  encountered  in  religion,  but  there 


are  difficulties  to  be  encountered  everywhere.  If  Christians 
sometimes  have  doubts  and  fears,  unbelievers  have  more  doubts 
and  greater  fears.  I  passed  through  a  period  of  skepticism  when 
I  was  in  coU^e  and  I  have  been  glad  ever  since  that  I  became  a 
member  of  the  church  before  I  lett  home  for  coll^[e,  for  it  helped 
me  during  l^ose  trying  days.  And  the  colle^  days  cover  the 
dangerous  period  in  the  young  man's  life;  he  is  just  coming  into 
possession  of  his  powers,  and  feels  stroneer  than  he  ever  feds 
afterward — and  he  thinks  he  knows  more  than  he  ever  does  know. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  I  became  confused  by  the  different 
theories  of  creation.  But  I  examined  these  theories  and  found 
that  they  all  assumed  something  to  begin  with.  You  can  test 
this  for  yourselves.  The  nebular  hypothesis,  for  instance, 
assumes  that  matter  and  force  existed — matter  in  particles 
infinitely  fine  and  each  particle  separated  from  eveiy  other 
particle  by  space  infinitely  great.  Beginning  with  this  assump- 
tion, force  working  on  matter — according  to  this  hypothesis — 
created  a  universe.  Well,  I  have  a  right  to  assume,  and  I  pr^er 
to  assume,  a  Designer  back  of  the  design — a  Creator  back  of  the 
creation;  and  no  matter  how  long  vou  draw  out  the  process  of 
creation,  so  long  as  God  stands  back  of  it  you  cannot  shake  my 
faith  in  Jehovc^.  In  Genesis  it  is  written  that,  in  the  beginning, 
God  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  I  can  stand  on  that 
proposition  until  I  find  some  theory  of  creation  that  goes  farther 
DBCK  than  "the  beginning.'*  We  must  be^  with  something — 
we  must  start  somewhere — and  the  Christian  begins  with  G^. 

I  do  not  carry  the  doctrine  of  evolution  as  far  as  some  do;  I 
am  not  yet  convinced  that  man  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  lower 
axiimals.  I  do  not  mean  to  find  fault  with  you  if  you  want  to 
accept  the  theory;  all  I  mean  to  say  is  that  while  you  may  trace 
your  ancestry  back  to  the  monkey  if  you  find  pleasure  or  pride 
m  doing  so,  you  shall  not  connect  me  with  your  family  tree  with- 
out more  evidence  than  has  yet  been  produced.  I  oDJect  to  the 
theory  for  several  reasons.  First,  it  is  a  dangerous  theory.  If  a 
man  links  himself  in  generations  with  the  monkey,  it  then  be- 
comes an  important  question  whether  he  is  going  toward  him  or 
coming  from  him — and  I  have  seen  them  going  in  both  directions. 
I  do  not  know  of  any  argument  that  can  be  used  to  prove  that 
man  is  an  improved  monkey  that  may  not  be  used  just  as  well 
to  prove  that  the  monkey  is  a  degenerate  man,  and  the  latter 
theory  is  more  plausible  than  the  former. 

It  is  true  that  man,  in  some  physical  characteristics  resembles 
the  beast,  but  man  has  a  mind  as  well  as  a  body,  and  a  soul  as 
well  as  a  mind.  The  mind  is  greater  than  the  body  and  the  soul 
is  greater  than  the  mind,  and  I  object  to  having  man's  pedifi[ree 
tnu»d  on  one-third  of  him  only — and  that  the  lowest  third. 
Fairbaim,  in  his  "  Philosophy  of  Christianity,"  lays  down  a  sound 
proposition  when  he  says  that  it  is  not  sufficient  to  explain  man  as 


an  animal;  that  it  is  necessary  to  ocplain  man  in  history — and 
the  Darwinian  theory  does  not  do  this.  The  ape,  aooording  to 
this  theory,  is  older  than  man  and  yet  the  ape  is  stfll  an  i^ 
while  man  is  the  author  of  the  marvdous-  civilization  which  we 
see  about  us. 

One  does  not  escape  from  mystery,  however,  by  accepting  this 
theory,  for  it  does  not  explain  the  origin  of  Ufe.  When  the  fol- 
lower of  Darwin  has  traced  the  germ  of  life  back  to  the  lowest 
form  in  which  it  appears — and  to  follow  him  one  must  exercise 
more  faith  than  religion  calls  for — he  finds  that  scientists  differ. 
Those  who  reject  the  idea  of  creation  are  divided  into  two  schools, 
some  believing  that  the  first  germ  of  life  came  from  another 
planet  and  others  holding  that  it  was  the  result  of  spontaneous 
generation.  Bach  school  answers  the  arguments  advanced  by 
the  other,  and  as  they  cannot  agree  with  each  other,  I  am  not 
compelled  to  agree  with  either. 

If  I  were  compelled  to  accept  one  of  these  theories  I  would 
prefer  the  first,  for  if  we  can  chase  the  germ  of  life  off  th^  planet 
and  get  it  out  into  space  we  can  guess  the  rest  of  the  way  and 
no  one  can  contradict  us,  but  if  we  accept  the  doctrine  of  spon- 
taneous generation  we  cannot  explain  why  spontaneous  genera- 
tion ceased  to  act  after  the  first  germ  was  created. 

Go  back  as  far  as  we  may,  we  cannot  escape  from  the  creative 
act,  and  it  is  just  as  easy  for  me  to  believe  that  God  created  man 
as  he  is  as  to  believe  that,  millions  of  years  ago.  He  created  a 
germ  of  life  and  endowed  it  with  power  to  develop  into  all  that 
we  see  to-day.  I  object  to  the  Darwinian  theory,  until  more 
conclusive  proof  is  produced,  because  I  fear  we  shall  lose  the 
consciousness  of  God  s  presence  in  our  daily  life,  if  we  must  accept 
the  theory  that  through  all  the  ages  no  spiritual  force  has  toudied 
the  life  of  man  or  shaped  the  destiny  of  nations. 

But  there  is  another  objection.  The  Darwinian  theory  repre- 
sents man  as  reaching  his  present  perfection  by  the  operation  of 
the  law  of  hate — the  merciless  law  by  which  the  strong  crowd  out 
and  kill  off  the  weak.  If  this  is  the  law  of  our  development  then, 
if  there  is  any  logic  that  can  bind  the  human  mind,  we  shall  turn 
backward  toward  the  beast  in  proportion  as  we  substitute  the 
law  of  love.  I  prefer  to  believe  that  love  rather  than  hatred  is 
the  law  of  development.  How  can  hatred  be  the  law  of  develop- 
ment when  nations  have  advanced  in  proportion  as  they  have 
departed  from  that  law  and  adopted  the  law  of  love? 

But,  I  repeat,  while  I  do  not  accept  the  Darwinian  theory  I 
shall  not  quarrel  with  you  about  it;  I  only  refer  to  it  to  remmd 
you  that  it  does  not  solve  the  mystery  of  life  or  explain  human 
progress.  I  fear  that  some  have  accepted  it  in  the  hope  of  escap- 
ing from  the  miracle,  but  why  should  the  miracle  mghten  us? 
And  yet  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  it  is  one  of  the  test  questions 
with  the  Christian. 


Christ  cannot  be  separated  from  the  miraculous;  His  birth* 
His  ministrations,  and  His  resurrection,  all  involve  the  miracu- 
lous, and  the  change  which  His  religion  works  in  the  human  heart 
is  a  continuing  mirade.  Eliminate  the  miracles  and  Christ 
becomes  merely  a  human  being  and  His  gospel  is  stript  of  divine 

The  miracle  raises  two  questions:  "Can  God  perform  a 
miracle?"  and,  "Would  He  want  to?*'  The  first  is  easy  to  an- 
swer. A  God  who  can  make  a  world  can  do  anything  He  wants 
to  do  with  it.  The  power  to  perform  miracles  is  necessarily 
implied  in  the  power  to  create.  But  would  God  want  to  perform 
a  miracle? — this  is  the  question  which  has  siven  most  of  the 
trouble.  The  more  I  have  considered  it  the  less  inclined  I  am 
to  answer  in  the  negative.  To  say  that  God  would  not  perform 
a  miracle  is  to  assume  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  GocTs  plans 
and  purposes  than  I  can  claim  to  have.  I  will  not  deny  that  God 
does  perform  a  miracle  or  may  perform  one  merely  because  I  do 
not  Imow  how  or  why  He  does  it.  I  find  it  so  difficult  to  decide 
each  day  what  God  wants  done  now  that  I  am  not  presumptuous 
enough  to  attempt  to  declare  what  God  might  have  wanted  to 
do  thousands  of  ^rears  ago.  The